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1 Capt. S. 



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April, 1932 



AMAZING STORIES 



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Amazing Stories 

Scientific Fiction 



Vol. 7 



April, 1932 



No. 1 



In Our 'Next Issue 

THE METAL DOOM, by David H. Keller, M.D, 
(Serial in three parts) Part I. In an almost per- 
fectly appointed world, scientifically and mechani- 
cally speaking, living has become a greatly sim- 
plified matter — with reservations, of course. Ac- 
cidents are liable to happen, naturally; serious 
ones. How would we all — intelligent beings, who 
believe that we can easily adapt ourselves to 
changing conditions — react to a drastic change? 

WORLDS ADRIFT, by Stephen G. Hale. During 
a recent trip in California, Mr. Hale tells us, he 
quite by accident received his inspiration for this 
much-called-for sequel to "The Laughing Death." 
A more detailed account of this experience will 
be found in the Discussions columns. 

THE RETURN OF THE TRIPEDS, by Neil R. 

Jones. It seems hardly necessary to say anything 
beyond mentioning the author and the name of 
the story. Here is another story in the Jameson 
series — complete in itself — in which we learn of 
developments more amazing than anything that 
has happened to the professor before, and wc 
learn the secret of "the planet of the double sun." 

THE LEMURIAN DOCUMENTS, by J. Lewis 

Burtt. No. 3. Daedalus and Icarus. Here is the 
third in the series of mythological stories brought 
to us in modern manner, which makes us won- 
der once more just when some of our miraculous 
inventions of the present day really were started. 

THE PERFECT PLANET, by Miles J. Ereuer, 
M.D. All things which might be sent us from 
outer space are not necessarily sent for our doom. 
Strangely enough — or perhaps, naturally enough — 
it is not a scientist who discovers the value of 
this particular "gift" from the skies. 

And Other Unusual Scientific Fiction 



In Our April Issue 

Mechanocracy 

By Miles J. Breuer, M.D 6 

Illustrated by Moiey 

Seven Sunstrokes 

By Bob Olsen 16 

Illustrated by Morey 

The Lost Machine 

By John B. Harris 40 

Illustrated by More; 

Cosmic Steeple-Chase 

By Robert A. Wait.. . . ., 4S 

Illustrated by Morey 

Troyana 

(A Si-rial in three parts) Fori III 
By Copt. S. P. Meek, U. S. A 70 

Illustrated by Morey 

In the Realm of Books .... 86 

What Do You Know? 

(Science Questionnaire) 86 

Discussions 86 



Oar Cover 

tbis issue depicts a scene from the story entitled, "The Lost 

Machine" by Jrilm U. Harris, in which ihc .-!';. :h:e teiitacled 
metal construction that di'finilcly slmwc-.l lntolliyci.if is testing 
the atmosphere of this, to it, new world, and is about to start 
preliminary investigation for its master, who took the unhappy 
*.*.«„„ t;»i n f ci-ivinn within Tiis space machine. 



precaution of staying withir 



Cover illustration by Morey 



Published Monthly by Teck Publishing Corporation, Washington and South Avenues, Dunellen, N. J, 
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OFFICERS 

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Entered as second class matter at the Post Office at Dunellen, 
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April, 1932 



AMAZING STORIES 



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April, 1932 



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VOLUME 
7 





APRIL, 1932 
No. I 



THE 

MAGAZINE 

OF 

SCIENTIFICTION 




T. OCONOR SLOANE, Ph.D., Editor MIRIAM BOURXE, Managing Editor 

Editorial and General Offices: 350 Hudson Street, New York, N. Y. 



Extravagant Fiction Today Cold Fact Tomorrow 

The Corner-Stones of Chemistry 

By T. O'Conor Sloane, Ph.D. 




BHE discovery that a chemical combination was the 
addition of two or more things and that the com- 
binations were always in the same ratio of weights 
or of multiples thereof, were so much the basis 
of modern chemistry that it is taken as the foun- 
dation stone of all we know. Simple and obvious 
as it seems, the centuries of work of the alchemists 
and scientists of olden days got them nowhere, and it was just 
during the breaking out of the French Revolution that Lavoisier 
in Paris and Priestly, who had recently come over from England 
to America, had made the discovery each independent of the 
other. Priestly did his work in Pennsylvania. Lavoisier did 
his in Paris, so naturally enough America claims the beginning 
of chemistry, as also does France. 

Lavoisier was connected with the government of France as a 
Collector of the Revenues and naturally, being a distinctively 
great man, he improved everything he touched. One of the 
great things wanted in those days was potassium nitrate for 
making gunpowder, and he improved the collection of this 
and did away with the very obnoxious system of visiting the 
cellars of private houses in the hope of finding sources for the 
salt. But when the Revolution broke out, the work Lavoisier 
did for the government on the side of its revenues told against 
him, and he was beheaded ; he was one of the purest characters 
that the French Revolution sent to the guillotine. There is a 
story that he wanted to complete some chemical experiment 
before being executed and that he was not permitted to do it. 
He was told that the Republic had no need of chemists. A 
decade or two later they found out that they had great need of 
chemists. 

One of the necessities of modern life is soap, and to make 
hard soap, as distinguished from soft soap, sodium carbonate is an 
essential, so when France was cut off from Spain in her wars 
with England she waa cut off from a supply of the seaweed 
called kelp. This seaweed used to be collected in enormous 
quantities and its ashes yielded sodium carbonate. A prize 
was offered for anyone who developed a process of making ' 
sodium carbonate from salt, oE which sea water alone would 
provide an endless quantity. France most emph-tically needed 
a Jiemist and found one. LeBIanc, a French chemist, developed 
the wonderful soda-ash process which gave the desired alkali 
from salt. It was a revolutionary discovery and the date of the 
patent for it is 1792. Apparently the country did need a chemist. 
Although the process is largely superseded now, at one time 
it was probably the greatest chemical industry of the world, 
and there was an old saying apropos of the development of 
this process, to the effect that the civilization of a nation could 
be judged by the quantity of soap it made. This is because 



the amount of soap it produced indicated the development of 
the LeBIanc soda ash process. 

Lavoisier had been guillotined and poor LeBIanc, worn out 
with disappointment, committed suicide. 

These episodes in the history. of chemistry seemed to have 
led us a little astray from our subject, so we will try to return 
to it. 

The establishment of the weight-relation of the constituents 
of compounds lead to the development of the table of atomic 
weights, so we see that chemistry originated as a science of 
weights and the chemist's balance, in a sense, became the symbol 
of the new science. 

Water was found o consist of eight parts by weight of 
oxygen, to one part of hydrogen. A slight discrepancy in the 
hydrogen was not discovered for many years. Accordingly it 
was said that the water molecule consisted of an atom of oxygen 
combined with an atom of hydrogen, and with the rapid devel- 
opment of chemical formulas this was accepted as the truth, 
The Italian chemist, Avagadro, early in the last century brought 
out the theory that equal volumes of all gases at the same tem- 
perature and pressure contained the same number of mole- 
cules. Now it is a very simple thing to decompose water by 
the electric current and to collect the oxygen and hydrogen, 
each in its own receptacle for measurement. It was found 
that there was exactly twice the volume of hydrogen in water 
that there was of oxygen. Avagadro's paper was published 
in 1811. Water had always been called HO and the whole 
structure of chemical formulas was built up on this basis. In 
the middle of the last century the new system, as it is called, 
which gave water for its formula HaO, modifying a vast num- 
ber of chemical^ formulas, was accepted by the more modern 
chemists and quite a war was waged between the two schools 
as we may call them. It is interesting to note that in the 
sixties of the last century the authorities of Columbia College, 
in New York, for it was not a university then, passed a reso- 
lution adopting what was called the new system, in which 
water was HsO instead of HO. 

_ Lavoisier and Priestly had made chemistry a science of rela- 
tive weights^ and these weights applied whether the substance 
was solid, liquid or gaseous. After Lavoisier's and Priestly's 
work, the relation ot volumes of substances in the gaseous state 
was developed by Avagadro, thus further modifying chemistry. 

The relation of weights of the atoms and molecules followed 
by the identity of size of molecules in the gaseous state, were 
the corner-stones, for it now had two, in chemistry, and it had 
taken the intellect of man 2,000 or more years to find this out 
and convert alchemy into chemistry. 




By 

Miles J. Breuer, 



Author of "The Man with the Strange 
Head," "Paradise and Iron," etc. 



ALTHOUGH marvelous strides have 
-*-* been made within the last fifty years in 
the field of mechanical invention, we must 
admit that we are merely at the brink of the 
Machine Age. What the future holds for us, 
nobody can tell definitely or surely, but some 
of those psychologists and scientists who let 
their imaginations roam into the possible, 
future see things — remarkable things — to 
which they react with much misgiving. 
Machinery that standardizes production may 
in some way extend itself too far in standard* 
izing life. It is a problem worth considering 
now — whether a muddling government that 
still permits initiative and self-reliance is 
not preferable to a perfectly standardized 
machine government. Dr. Breuer sees his 
side of the problem clearly and gives a most 
vivid picture of such a possible future. 



'Again there were no people. No bawl- 
ing speakers. No gongs. Only the 
open mouths of pneumatic tubes, and 
endless rows of them, each marked 
with its destination. 



*ssps»<" '^^pP' v -^ijto|gi 



Illustrated by MOREY, 



eyWechanocracy 



CHAPTER I 

QUENTIN SMITH LAKEMAN, the 
Government regrets your personal feel- 
ings and sympathizes with your rela- 
tives, hut finds it necessary to condemn 
you at once to euthanasia." 
As the mechanical voice that came 
from the orifice of the speaker ceased, Quentin Smith 
Lakeman turned pale and an icy pang shot through him. 
Through the dazzling lights that danced in his brain, he 
could see his three companions standing there gasping 
as a result of the sudden, crushing sentence. 

He had expected some kind of a reward for his year 
of hard work, danger, and hardship spent in the service 
of the Government. Not that he expected machinery to 
have any gratitude ; but above all, the machine is logical 
and just, and there were rules for rewarding special 
effort such as his. 

"Democratia must be promptly and completely de- 
stroyed," the metallic voice of the speaker continued. 
"From your report of your investigations in that coun- 
try, it is clear that its people will never consent to stand- 
ardize themselves, and that they therefore constitute a 
menace to our standardized World Government." 

Quentin — to call him by his "intimate" name, for in 
the twenty-sixth century everyone had an intimate name, 
a family name, and a public name — was flung down and 
crushed again by the announcement of the fate of that 
gallant country in which he had just spent a year. It 
seemed that his heart would stop beating then and there, 
for Democratia held Martha, who .in that one short year 
had become more precious than all else in the world. He 
looked beside him at Jack, her stalwart eighteen-year- 
old brother, who had journeyed back with him as a 
guest to Washington, the Capital of the World. 

"The Government appreciates the very efficient efforts 
of Quentin Smith Lakeman," the voice went on. Quen- 
tin knew it for the empty formula that the machine 
adopted in order to appeal to the emotions of human 
beings with whom it dealt. "It understands that this 
decision is emotionally difficult for living beings to bear. 
But, you have spent months in Democratia, and acquired 
a considerable tinge of individualistic ideas and customs. 
It would be dangerous to our institutions to turn you 
loose among the people now. And, as Democratia will 
soon cease to exist, prompt euthanasia is the only solu- 
tion." 

Utter silence followed. Even the faint crackling of 
the speaker ceased, showing that the connection was off. 
Quentin turned to Jack, whose burly form towered above 
the rest of them, and whose countenance showed a be- 
wildered inability to grasp what it all meant. 

Just then the door opened and a police captain came 
in, followed by a squad of men in blue uniform. Quen- 
tin recognized the captain as Guy Sherman Sender, an 
old and close friend. Sentier stopped short and turned 
pale. 



"You?" he gasped as he saw Quentin. "My orders 
are to take four people out of this office to the Euthana- 
sia Chambers! What have you done?" 

"Nothing!" said Quentin, calm by this time. "Go 
ahead. It's your duty. All I've done was to do mine." 

"Terribly sorry," said Sentier faintly. He motioned 
to his men, and turned his head away. 

The policemen came up, one of them grasping Jack 
by the arm. Jack whirled around and knocked the fellow 
across the room as easily as shaking off a rat. Then 
he leaped away from the group that Lad come in through 
an outer door, and in a moment had disappeared through 
a door leading into the interior of the building. The 
clatter of his swift footsteps died rapidly away into the 
muffled distance. 

For a moment the policemen stood aghast. They did 
not know quite how to behave, for never in their ex- 
perience had a prisoner made so bold as to try to escape. 
With the world rigidly standardized and moving as one 
unit, what hope could there be of escape? 

At a shout from the captain, they became active and 
scattered through doors and windows in pursuit, each 
with his thin black rod. 

The three remaining captives were handcuffed and 
a man ieft in charge. 

Quentin waited in patient resignation, for he knew it 
could not last long. Can one escape the lion in his own 
den? The very walls of the building would combine 
to hunt down the fugitive. 

But the boy must have been swift and clever. Minutes 
lengthened into an hour; the guard stood stiff, me- 
chanical, embarrassed. The huge building was silent 
save for vague mechanical sounds. Then a faint shout 
came across a courtyard through a window, and Quentin 
could see Jack climbing down a drain pipe from the 
roof. Two figures appeared on the roof above him, and 
others ran out of a door near by and waited for him on 
the ground. As Jack came down within reach, one of 
the guards touched him with the end of his slender, 
three-foot rod. Jack dropped to the ground, limp and 
paralyzed. In a few moments he was wheeled into the 
office on a small cart, one of the policemen holding the 
rod in contact with Jack's arm. The boy lay helpless, 
his eyes gazing mute inquiry into Quentin's. 

"No use, Jack," Quentin said to him. "You're among 
civilized people now, you know. You're no good against 
police equipment. Promise them you'll go quietly and 
they'll let you up." 

The policeman lifted the rod an instant, giving Jack- 
power to nod his head in promise. Thereupon the police- 
man put his rod away, and Jack stood up and looked 
about abashed. As the police led their captives out, 
Sentier called after Quentin : 

"You don't hold this against me personally? May 
I visit you?" 

"Come. I shall be glad to see you," Quentin answered 
philosophically. "Why should I blame yon? You're a 
tiny cog in a huge machine." 



8 



AMAZING STORIES 



AS the captives were led into a barred and guarded 
plane, Quentin put his arm about Jack's big shoul- 
ders in sympathy. He looked young to die ; and it 
seemed like a betrayal, to be brought from that wild coun- 
try to see the wonders of the civilized world, and find 
this. As the plane rose and headed for New York, 
where the euthanasia facilities were located, Jack seemed 
more absorbed in looking down at the Government Build- 
ings which comprised the whole city of Washington, than 
in the thought of impending death. He looked at Quen- 
tin with bewilderment in his face. 

"That square massive building just below us is the 
one we were in? And you say that is the center, the 
brain, the key of the whole World Government?" 

"That is the Government," Quentin replied. "Just 
as 3'our brain is you. These other countless acres of 
buildings are merely its arms and lingers and eyes and 
ears. Without this building they could not function, and 
the world would be chaos." 

Jack stared down fascinatedly. 

"And yet," he breathed in amazement, "I ran through 
miles of corridors, passed hundreds of rooms full of 
apparatus and instruments, and not a soul did I see,*' 

Quentin nodded in confirmation. 

"For an hour I ran, and by the end of it I was caring 
less about being caught than about finding some people 
about in these buildings. Is there no one?" 

"No one," Quentin replied. 

"And yet you say it's the Government!" The boy 
seemed dumfounded. 

"After all my explaining," Quentin said, "haven't you 
realized that the Government is merely a huge machine, 
made of metal and rubber and glass and run by elec- 
tricity and light and heat?" 

"But — but how can machinery govern the world?" 

"Better than human beings can. Even your business 
men in Democratia use machines to help them run their 
businesses; their offices are full of automatic machines 
for managing a business, time-clocks, adding-machines, 
bookkeeping machines, cash-registers, dictaphones — no 
end of them. The Government Machine is not essenti- 
ally different. Merely a little more automatic and a 
little more complex." 

"And are all the people willing to be governed by a 
machine?" It was all amazingly strange to Jack. 

"They cannot conceive of anything else," Quentin ex- 
plained. "For three hundred years they have grown up 
in it. They are intensely loyal to it, because it not merely 
governs them as you understand the w r ord govern ; it 
takes care of them as a mother takes care of children." 

"They seem to be happy," Jack observed. 

Quentin nodded down toward the beautiful country- 
side over which they were flying at a swift rate. The 
green fields were intersected by broad roads and huge 
power lines, and the blue bulk of a city loomed on the 
horizon. 

"The world is more prosperous than it has ever been 
before," he replied. "Life is thoroughly comfortable, 
absolutely safe and certain. But you would call it 
monotonous. Everybody does everything by rule and 
schedule, all alike, the world over. Standardize. You 
wouldn't like it." 

"I couldn't stand it!" Jack exclaimed. 

"Your country, Democratia," continued Quentin, "is 
made up of the descendants of people who couldn't stand 
it. During the development period of machine govern- 



ment standardization, the democratic-minded people, who 
could not fit into it, were having a hard time. They were 
persecuted and driven from one place to another." 

"That's unjust!" Jack was thoroughly democratic. 

"They were a small minority. The rest of the world 
was in earnest; it was afraid of annihilation by war. So 
it built cities on a standard plan, streets and buildings 
all alike. From New York to Hongkong people live on 
the same schedule and think by the same rules. That is 
easier to manage by machinery. Safer. More comfort- 
able." 

Jack gazed for a while at the swiftly receding land- 
scape below. 

"Then why is the Government picking on Democratia 
now ?" he asked. 

"It had to come. For some centuries your country 
in Central Tibet was left in peace because its founders 
sought the remotest possible isolation. Our Government 
had its own problems. But, step by step it is striving 
constantly to perfect the world. Apparently the step has 
arrived in the process when it is time to remove the only 
exception to world rule." 

"And it sent you over there?" Jack shook his head, 
puzzled. 

"Remember that the Government has no emotions nor 
prejudices. It works absolutely by logic. It is always 
perfect in its fairness. A decision on Democratia needed 
all possible informational data. As communication chan- 
nels do not extend into Democratia, men had to be sent 
in." 

"And when you do a good job, you get killed for it." 

"Logical, though, is it not?" Quentin could be im- 
personal when discussing the Government Machine. 
"Now I see why it warned me so emphatically that I 
was risking my life and gave me repeated opportunities 
to decline the assignment if I wished to." 

"Risking your life? In Democratia?" Jack exclaimed. 

"Not at all, although that is the way I understood it 
at first. The Government needed a resourceful man for 
the job, and resourceful men are rare in our civilization. 
I was the best bet — don't laugh at me; I know how help- 
less and clumsy you think I am — I took my risk and 
lost it. For, this world cannot permit a resourceful man 
to live in it." 

Jack hardly heard the conclusion. He was gazing 
in open-mouthed wonder at the huge, solid mass of New 
York City that loomed ahead, the cliffs of buildings, the 
surging masses of people and machinery. The plane 
glided swiftly up above the dull, drab roofs, and landed 
on the top of a building, guided by a long black streamer 
at the top of a tall flagpole. Surrounded by guards, the 
four men were led to an elevator, descended a score of 
floors, and entered the Euthanasia Chambers. 

The furnishings and appointments here were the last 
word in beauty and luxury. The soft carpets, the rich 
hangings, the luxurious furniture, the flowers and scents 
and colors, the foods and wines within reach, all had a 
tendency to lull the occupants into a sense of peace and 
drowsy comfort. Each of the party was led to a room 
where he was to be given twenty-four hours for receiving 
last visits from friends and relatives. Jack and Quentin 
elected to remain together in one room. 

"Lovely, isn't it," said Quentin ironically. "A year 
ago its beauty would have stirred my emotions. But 
your rugged land has cured me. Now I can see the steel 
and concrete through the velvet, and see it just as an 



MECHANOCRACY 



undertaking establishment which you enter alive and 
leave dead." 

Sender arrived presently. Without his squad of 
policemen he was not a very impressive man. He almost 
wept as he. greeted Quentin. It looked almost as though 
he were the one sentenced to death. 

"One's duty demands cruel things," he moaned. "Ar- 
rest your best friend !" 

"I wouldn't do it, that's all," Jack exclaimed. 

Quentin patted the boy's back. 

"Yes you would," he reminded, "if you and a dozen 
generations of you had been raised like machines to obey 
the Government Machine and be loyal to it above all." 

Noting Sentier's depressed looks, Quentin offered to 
relate his adventures in Democratia, and Sentier eagerly 
grasped at the opportunity to relieve the tension, 

"Get a permit to broadcast as much as possible of it," 
Quentin suggested. "It is a beautiful land and a wonder- 
ful people that are about to be destroyed. But, suppose 
I tell you? What if you sympathize? That will be 
treason, and you will be — eliminated." 

Sentier smiled. 

"No danger," he said. "That is why you were sent out 
and I am a police captain. If I can arrest my best friend 
in cold blood, how can I sympathize with a distant land 
and a strange people?" 

"In other words," Quentin mused again, "the Govern- 
ment picked me out to die when it selected me for the 
job?" 

"That, of course, depended on what you would find 
there." 

Jack clenched his fists. A frown gathered on his 
forehead. He glared at the policeman, who was an 
embodiment of the Government that killed an efficient 
man for doing his duty, and to whom machines were 
more important than men. Quentin watched the boy 
as he talked. Vague possibilities stirred his imagination. 
What if he might see Martha again? He, Quentin, had 
the brains for a daring attempt, but not the physical 
courage. Jack had boldness enough for anything. Quen- 
tin worded his story quite as much for its effect on Jack, 
as for Sentier's benefit. 

CHAPTER II 

" TT UST a year ago," Quentin began his story to 
I Sentier, "I was called into that same office in 
%-* Washington and given my instructions. I was 
offered the chance to refuse without stigma. That I 
thought ridiculous, for it seemed a wonderful oppor- 
tunity. I am cursed with a love of adventure, which 
is a terrible affliction in this monotonous age. I was to 
spend a year in Democratia, and then come back and give 
a full report on the life and customs of the country, 

*T was so excited that I came within a hair of giving 
away a secret, and probably with it, my life or liberty. 
This love of adventure had boiled up within me from 
youth. For years I had planned some sort of a wild 
deed. Bit by bit I had secretly assembled an airplane 
in an obscure cellar on Long Island. It lay there at the 
moment, with fuel and provisions ready to start, 
equipped for a rough, uncertain trip, instead of for the 
scheduled routes which have been carefully standardized. 
I had an impulse to take this plane for the trip, but a 
flash of judgment told me that it would be dangerous 
to reveal my secret. 



"I was ordered to take my official plans, which I 
owned according to my rank and standing. I was not 
permitted to take my own mechanic; Binder and Steele 
were assigned as mechanics and Neatman as Secretary. 
It was all very simple. The three men arrived at my 
home early one morning; we taxied out of my garage, 
flew across the city, and out over the Atlantic. Because 
of the rigid standardization of men, methods, and ma- 
chines, the mechanics had no need of seeing either me or 
the plane before the moment of starting. 

"We made a quick trip, and I paid little attention to 
my surroundings during the most of it. The cities look 
the same and the people act the same everywhere as in 
New York. Only when we reached the Himalayas I 
began to feel my first thrill. Those vast stretches, with- 
out a city for hundreds of miles, are romantic. We 
located the Tagnapo River and the ruins of Llhasa. 
once a large and powerful city; and struck due North 
into a wild desert where no one ever goes. After some 
hours of searching, we located the green valley completely 
shut in by vast mountains and saw the cities of Demo- 
cratia. 

"There were three large fine ones and a dozen smaller 
towns, and a sprinkling over the whole land of what 
must have been villages. Think of it, Sentier, they live 
in villages! Little collections of a few tiny buildings. 
Most of the world used to do that a thousand years ago. 
And even the three great cities of Democratia were not 
modern as our cities are. They were not built in units. 
Each building was of different height and size, and thev 
had open streets in single layers. But it was a wonderful 
looking land. Think of it, lying hidden away there, 
and the world knowing nothing about it ; its bold, re- 
sourceful men, its sturdy and beautiful women. When 
it is puffed out, no one will feel a pang of sympathy for it. 

"There were no diplomatic relations between the two 
governments. Credentials were of no use to me, and I 
received none, nor did I receive any sign of the usual 
string of rules, instructions, and minutiae. The whole 
thing was left up to me; and during the whole of the 
trip over, I pondered on some way of approaching the 
people of Democratia. I pondered in vain. I knew 
nothing about the people and their country, and could 
form no plan. So, I first took a good look at the coun- 
try from an altitude too great for them to see me. Then 
I decided to land in some uninhabited spot and spend 
a night resting and planning. I chose a flat place low 
down between two tall peaks, near the northern rim of 
the mountain-surrounded country. A hundred miles 
away was one of their largest cities. 

"We alighted on grass and the air was cold. But we 
had warm clothing and the cabin of the plane was heated. 
The beauty of the prospect was worth the cold. The 
vast, grassy plain, the woods half a mile away, the huge. * 
snow-patched mountains in the opposite direction — wc 
live too much cooped up in cities, Sentier — it took mv. 
breath. The others were also impressed, and we had 
to expend our emotions in a walk toward the woods. 

"I ought to have known better. City men have no 
business in the wilderness. Oh, yes, we took our shock- 
rods along, and I took an old-fashioned projectile pistol. 
Half way to the trees we heard a tramping behind us. 
and turning, beheld a huge goat with winding horns 
charging for us at full speed. The animal raced swiftly 
toward us as we stood paralyzed by fear. It seemed to 
have picked out Steele, and tore right at him. Steele 



10 



AMAZING STORIES 



took it coolly enough, and faced the charge with his 
shock-rod. It paralyzed the goat on contact all right, but 
it could not stop the momentum of the great, charging 
body, which rolled crashing on, crushed Steele under 
it, and nearly got me. I got a bullet in the goat's head 
before it could get up, astonishing my companions with 
the noise of the shot. Steele was dead, smashed, when 
we reached him. 

"The sound of galloping hoofs reached us. More 
goats were coming. We ran for the woods because 
they were nearer than our plane. Later I got used to 
the looks of these goats. They are not particularly dan- 
gerous. But to us, just then, they were huge, frightful 
monsters. We're not used to seeing large, live, free 
animals. Our frantic fear made us act foolishly. 

"At intervals I turned around and shot bullets at the 
goats. Just now that is laughable. I had no skill with 
the weapon. My shots went wild. But it helped a lit- 
tle, for the noise confused the goats and retarded their 
speed somewhat. We reached the trees and hurried 
far into their depths. The goats did not follow, because 
their horns got tangled in the growth. 

"Then, when we had gotten our breath after such 
unaccustomed exertion, and had waited long enough to 
give the goats time to wander off, we started back. We 
walked on through the trees toward the plain, but came 
to no end of them. We were lost ! 

"The terrors of that night will be stamped on my 
memory forever — well, that won't be long. First of all 
it was cold. We huddled together. Some of us thought 
of a fire. None of us had ever seen an open fire; but 
we had read of ancient savages making fires by rub- 
bing sticks. We rubbed sticks till we were exhausted. 
Of course it was silly, for we didn't even know the dif- 
ference between green and dry wood. We therefore 
crowded together on the ground, shivering as much 
with terror as with cold. There was no sleep for us. 
The noises of the woods, from clicks and crackles to 
roars and yells, sent grip after grip of fear through our 
hearts. Sentier, these tales you read of people dying 
from pure terror are not true. If such a thing were 
possible, we would all have died the first quarter of the 
night. Yet, these Democratians spend night after night 
in the woods and enjoy it. We are just too much pam-> 
pered by our machines. 

"A party of them had camped, not half a mile from us, 
that night, just too far for us to see their fire. They 
wrap, themselves in blankets and leave one person on 
guard, and sleep soundly all night. They found us in 
the morning, numb with cold and dumt with fear. The 
first I knew of them was a musical voice calling: 

"'Quick, Jack!' with a little O'i-like intake of the 
breath. 'Someone in distress !' 

"I looked up. Approaching was a girl in corduroy 
breeches and high-laced boots — antiquated, romantic. A 
"knapsack. An old-fashioned rifle for shooting bullets. 
But there was a glow of health in her cheeks that made 
the chemical beauty of our girls seem ridiculous. To 
me, that moment, shivering in hungry, hopeless despair, 
she was the most beautiful, radiant being I had ever 
seen or imagined. She was the sister of Jack here. 
He was with her." 

OUENTIN looked about the velvet draperies that 
concealed their prison walls, as though it were 
hard to believe that it all hung together somehow. He 



sank his face in his hands for an instant. Sentier was 
embarrassed. Sentier could sympathize with the love 
affair. Men of his day were experts in those. Quentin 
did not even look at Jack, and in a moment had thrown 
off the mood, and continued : 

"They had us comfortable in a few minutes. Jack 
and his father came up very soon. Before our eyes they 
made a fire. Sentier, you ought to see a fire before 
you die. They boiled coffee and eggs. Did you ever 
eat an egg, Sentier? The delicious odors, the warmth 
of the fire, the beauty of the girl who was on an equal 
with the men in strength and efficiency, and had no 
simpering feminine wiles about her — I was sold on 
Democratia from then on. 

" 'Who are you, and whence are you?' was their first 
question. 

" 'Just on a pleasure cruise/ I put in quickly before 
any of the rest of our party could speak. 'Bound no- 
where in particular. We liked this spot and wanted 
to look at it more closely, and got lost. We spent all 
night in the woods.'* 

"'Unarmed? Without fire?' The girl looked worlds 
of sympathy at us. 

" 'We're city folks, not used to being out,' I said. 

" 'So are we city folks—' Jack began, but his father 
silenced him with a look. 

"They persuaded us to come to their camp, and prom- 
ised to find our plane. After some sleep and rest I be- 
gan to notice things. There were a dozen people in a 
tiny house of logs on the mountain. They were living 
there for a month. They had no heating system. No 
lighting system — depended on open fires. No kine- 
phone service. No tube delivery. Not even properly 
prepared food. They ate just animals and plants boiled 
over a fire. No transportation ; they walked everywhere. 
Yet they were enjoying it. Doing it for pleasure! Can 
you imagine it? 

"And can you imagine me enjoying it? I got inter- 
ested early. I learned to build a fire. Too bad there's 
no place around here to build a fire. I learned to shoot 
a rifle. Much more thrilling than a shock-rod. At the 
end of the month I could walk ten miles and enjoy it. 
I coiud sleep out all night and make my own breakfast. 
Compared with these people, though, Sentier, I was 
helpless. Compared with them, all of us ar^ helpless. 
Little helpless larvae, such as ants carry around. 

"We depend for everything on machinery and on our 
Government. The Government gives us food and water 
and amusement and its machines work for us and take 
care of us. Without its care we would die in a few days. 

"These people haven't much government: a ridiculous 
meeting of so-called representatives once a year, which 
spends most of its time arguing and never gets any- 
where. They have 'laws* which they obey when it's 
convenient and possible. 

"But they don't need a government. We do. They 
can take care of themselves. With their own individual 
bands they can grapple with Nature, and wrest life and 
comfort from her trees and rocks and beasts. Jack here 
is only eighteen, but he could probably take you and 
break you up in short pieces. Don't grab your rod. He 
knows it won't get him anywhere. He could probably 
go several days without much food or sleep. Ever tried 
that, Sentier? 

"We may have a wonderful civilization, Sentier, but 
as individuals, we're feeble sprouts. What's the good of 



MECHANOCRACY 



11 



all these millions of us, all alike? Humanity by mass 
production. What would be the loss if they all died 
today ? 

"We were taken to the largest of their cities, a primi- 
tive sort of place with individual buildings and individual 
cars running about. Jack's father was a high govern- 
ment official and had been vacationing in the mountains. 
He was a rugged and kindly man, very much concerned 
about the welfare of the people over whom his authority 
extended. He took us to his home and shared its com- 
forts with us. Imagine that, Sentier! Taking a total 
stranger into your home, having him eat with you, sleep 
in your rooms ! 

"It wasn't long before I found myself in an uncom- 
fortable pickle. These people were kind to us, doing all 
they could to make us feel at home. Friendly. Couldn't 
help loving them. And here I was spying. Preparing 
to betray their kindness to me. For, much as I liked 
their country and their ways, I knew that the Govern- 
ment Machine would not. I spent several weeks of 
torture. 

"Furthermore, I was supposed to stay there a year. 
It was not plausible that even idle tourists would tarry 
for a year by the wayside. They would wonder, why 
didn't I go on? 

"The father of Jack and Martha noted my worry 
and depression. He asked me about it, with blunt primi- 
tive directness. 

" 'There is something about your situation here that 
worries you,' he said. 'Tell me what it is. and I can 
help you.* See? None of the roundabout diplomacy 
that we're used to. He got the whole story out of me. 

"The deep lines in his face, with its little fringe of 
beard, made him look very wise and very kind. You've 
never seen a man with a beard, have you, Sentier? It 
adds dignity. 

" 'The only thing for you to do,' he said, 'is to stay 
and do your duty. We'll be friends, because we like 
you and know you can't help it. Go back when the time 
comes. If you don't, they will send others, who may be 
more dangerous to us than you are.' 

"Then I was more at peace, until the time approached 
to go. I kept my Secretary busy writing up notes, and 
the mechanics keeping the plane in condition. I went 
around doing my best to study the country. I learned 
about money and buying and political parties, about poor 
people and unemployment. I learned to drive one of 
their little cars. I actually held a 'job' and made my own 
living for a few weeks, though I think my employer 
was glad to get rid of me. But most of the time I was 
a 'guest,' an exception to the prevailing conditions in 
which everyone had to hammer out his living with his 
own hands or starve. 

"I took long trips through their country in great steel 
carriages that run on rails. Martha accompanied me 
almost everywhere. She had been charming that first 
day in her rough hunting suit when she found us nearly 
dead ; she was charming later in a thousand ways, in soft 
and long gowns, dancing to spirited music; in athletic 
white, vigorously playing a very active game called ten- 
nis; she knew her people and her country thoroughly, 
and was my guide and teacher in my studies. 

"At our first meeting I was weak and helpless and 
half dead; she was sturdy and resourceful; I looked up 
to her on dizzy heights above me with a hopeless, sorrow- 
ful feeling. Ten months later, physically fit to look after 



her safety, I took her on a glacier-climb, paying all the 
expenses with 'money' I had 'earned' myself. There's a 
pride in earning money, Sentier ; too bad you can't try it. 

"We have practically eliminated wild animals from the 
rest of the world, but these people preserve them and 
limit their destruction for the sport of hunting them. It 
is a dangerous sport. Martha and I never suspected any 
danger, when we were climbing up the easy ice-slopes in 
a frolicking fashion. She was ahead, around a point of 
ice and out of sight, when I heard her screams. 

"I hurried up. Two white bears had attacked her. 
One had her rifle in its mouth and was pawing and 
crunching at it. The other had her down and was rolling 
her back and forth with its front paws, and tearing play- 
fully at her clothes with its teeth. 

"Then they saw me. Both snarled. The one with the 
rifle dropped it and came at me. These creatures looked 
clumsy, but they can move. The thing was on me before 
I could unsling my rifle, and I went down under it. As 
the beast pummeled me, I scrambled for the long hunt- 
ing-knife which I had learned to wear at my belt as do 
all of these people out in the open. I plunged the knife 
into his ribs a dozen times before he finally dropped and 
slid down the icy slope. I was completely soaked in 
his blood. 

"By this time Martha was also jabbing with her knife 
and was bloody from head to foot, but the bear was still 
going strong. She was cool enough, but concerned about 
her face. She held up her arm to protect it from the 
animal's long claws, and this interfered with her knife 
thrusts. I finished him with three jabs and he crashed 
down on her. When I dragged him off, she did not get 
up, but lay there moaning. 

"She had a broken leg. I — a product of this effete 
civilization, pampered by the Government Machine, 
raised like a lily in a hothouse — I splintered her leg with 
the scabbards of the long hunting knives, and hoisted her 
across my shoulders there on the slippery ice. I toiled 
back with her and it was night before I reached the 
car, and toward morning before I drove into a village 
and secured medical help. What would you do, Sentier 
— police are huskier than the average — with two bears 
and only a knife ; and a girl you loved, with a broken leg, 
a hundred miles away from the nearest habitation ? No 
buttons to push, no levers to set, no machinery to wait 
on you. 

"I spent delightful weeks in Martha's company while 
she was confined with her fracture. Before they were 
over, she was pledged to be my wife. Why an able and 
beautiful girl like that should want to marry a clumsy 
and incompetent lubber like myself, I could not under- 
stand. 

" T don't want to go back to Washington,' I said. 'Let 
us settle down right away, and forget about civilization.' 

" 'I should like it, of course,' she smiled. 

" 'Let the old Government Machine find someone else 
to do its dirty work !' I exclaimed. 'I'm happy here. 
Never again could I be happy in those roaring hives back 
there 1' 

"We planned our home, and counted on a teaching 
position which had been offered me in one of their uni- 
versities, and I was happy about my future with her, 
and with these delightful people. I hesitated about in- 
forming the Secretary and the Mechanic. They were not 
quite as much delighted with the country of Democratia 
as I was. and were eagerly looking forward to the end 



12 



AMAZING STORIES 



of the year, when they might go back to the brilliant 
lights and the gay entertainment of Broadway. It was 
difficult for me to force myself to tell them. 

"Finally, when our preparations began to be outwardly 
apparent, Martha's father took us in to talk to him. 

" 'Do you think this wise?' he asked me. 'From what 
I gather, your Government Machine does not lose track 
of details, and does not forgive failures.' 

"'How could it find me here?' I asked, but rather 
hesitatingly. 

" 'Another phase of the matter is this. You sym- 
pathize with us and our country. We would much 
rather have you make the report. Suppose they send 
another man, less friendly ? What would happen to us ?* 

"So, I started back for Washington, with a heavy 
heart because I must leave behind a girl, who, in beauty, 
in force of character, in real ability, mental and physical, 
is worth all the women in this feeble and degenerate 
civilization." 

He had been talking with his head bowed toward his 
knees. When he ceased, there was silence. It was a 
queer silence, lacking things that ought to have been 
there. He looked up. Sender was also bowed over. 
Slumped over, in fact. Jack stood behind him ; and as 
Quentiu looked up, Jack straightened up and shook his 
hands from the wrists as though to limber them up. As 
Quentin stared amazed, Jack gave Sentier a shove; the 
latter rolled down on the floor and flopped over on his 
back in a loose, sickening sort of w 7 ay. His face was 
purple, his black tongue protruded, and there were black 
marks on his neck. 

"Neat job," Jack said, "if you're really as surprised 
as you look. You went too far, reminding me of Sis 
and home." 

CHAPTER III 

OUENTIN looked down at the dead man, and up 
at Jack's stalwart figure. 
"Democracy versus mechanocracy," he said. 
"That is the way it goes between individuals. Between 
the organized groups, it would come out exactly the 
opposite. 

"The machine wins, though its subject people are weak- 
lings. Wouldn't it be better for the race to destroy the 
machine? 

"But / couldn't do it. Every fiber of my nature has 
been brought up to consider the Government Machine as 
a sacred mother — 

"But, I'll bet Jack would have the nerve in a minute — " 

"Come," whispered Jack shrilly, "let's get out!" 

He was already stripping off the dead man's uniform. 
He held it up and surveyed it ruefully against his own 
strapping bulk. 

"I'll put it on," Quentin said. u l can act the part 
where you cannot. It'll be your turn when the rough- 
house begins." 

Quentin's clothes were put on the dead man, and the 
latter's keys were used to open the door. They walked 
past the sentry at the door, receiving his salute without 
the flutter of an eyelid, and marched down the hallway, 
Jack in front with the handcuffs on, but not locked. 
Quentin came behind him in the captain's uniform, bear- 
ing the shock-rod. They had no plan, except that Quen- 
tin suddenly thought of his secret airplane, and de- 
termined to get to it. 



But how? It was out on Long Island. They were in 
the middle of a huge city, one solid structure honey- 
combed with mazes and labyrinths of streets and pas- 
sages horizontal and vertical. The end of it was three 
or four miles away, three or four miles of endless, buz- 
zing, swarming, whirling machinery and humanity be- 
tween them and open country. 

"Our best bet," Quentin said, "is to get down to the 
lowest level. There we ought to find some sort of a 
burrow to crawl out of. To the elevator." 

They reached the elevator and pushed its button. Its 
door opened and they stepped in, setting the button on 
the "eight-below" level, the lowest of them all. The car 
started down. 

A gong clanged and kept on clanging somewhere in 
the depths of the building. A loud speaker began to bel- 
low hoarsely on the floor they were passing; its roar 
died down as they left the floor behind, but was taken up 
by another on the floor below. 

"The guard has found Sentier," whispered Quentin, 
"and has turned in the alarm. Well, let's show 'em 
' : a scrap !" 

A new voice began in the speaker. It was crisp and 
gave orders. 

"— — all doors," they heard as they shot past a floor. 

" shut off the power and search all elevators " 

on another. 

"Hm !" said Quentin as the elevator slowed down and 
they saw through the bars a group of blue uniforms 
approaching. Jack was tense for a fight. 

"Not yet !" Quentin warned him. "Remember we 
can't fight the organization." 

"All right !" he shouted to the approaching policemen. 
"I've got one of them. One of you come along. And 
get the power-back on qjick and the elevator moving, so 
that I can hustle him back where he belongs." 

The policemen saluted Quentin. One of them stepped 
in and glared at Jack. The elevator door closed. In a 
few moments the car shot upward again. 

Quentin touched the policeman with the shock-rod, and 
as he lay limp, Jack put the handcuffs on him, tied his 
feet with a strap from the policeman's own puttees, and 
gagged him with a handkerchief. The policeman, un- 
accustomed to such rough handling, winced and shrank 
away, groaning. The elevator shot upward swiftly, 
passing floors by dozens and scores. The Euthanasia 
Chambers were left far below. On each floor were 
crowding people, clanging gongs, and bellowing speakers. 
Eventually they stopped. Outside was huge machinery, 
wheels, pulleys, motors. Above was the sky wavy glass. 
Somewhere, far away below, were footsteps pounding 
up metal stairs. They were just under the roof, a 
thousand feet above the ground. 

"Up on my shoulders !" said Jack, glancing up at the 
skylight. 

Quentin unhooked the skylight, climbed out, and 
helped Jack up after him. All about them was a sea of 
roofs, miles and miles % of them, flat dirty, with little 
cubicles and penthouses scattered by the hundreds and 
ventilators by the thousands. Above them on its tall 
flagpole waved the black streamer, which undoubtedly 
marked the location of the Euthanasia Chambers as a 
guide for aircraft. There were other flagpoles and other 
streamers, but no more black ones. They ran. They ran 
at random, not knowing whither. 

They ran till their breath was all gone, and then sank 



MECHANOCRACY 



13 



down and lay flat. Jack still trembled at the sensation 
of having crossed a bridgeway between two buildings 
and glimpsed a street a thousand feet below, a faint 
stream of blended, moving masses. Just now there was 
no one in sight. The scene was no different than when 
they had started. Only the absence of the black streamer 
made him sure that they were in a different place. 

"Bad fix," Quentin said. "We'll starve up here." 

"Oh, no," Jack replied easily. "We'll depend on the 
sun for direction, and keep going till we find an end or 
edge. We'll find some way of getting to the ground and 
getting away." 

"Well, you've got nerve, anyway. And it's better to 
die trying than to sit here." 

Then they noted airplanes searching round and round 
above them. They crouched down in the shadows be- 
tween the pipes and cubicles. The planes came lower 
and closer together. 

"They got the planes out quick," Jack observed. 

"It did, you mean. It's all automatic. The men are 
just tools. The whole city is an electrical brain, and is 
just a subsidiary of the Washington brain; a sort of in- 
ferior ganglion. The men could never think nor work 
that fast. The planes are now coming straight at us; 
evidently they have located us by some such methods as 
the refractograph, which by the refraction of light de- 
tects the column of carbon dioxide rising from our 
lungs, the telaud which can hear us whisper or our 
hearts beat, or the holograph which locates us by the 
heat of our bodies." 

A plane landed on a level place a hundred yards away. 
Another and another alighted beside it. Figures poured 
out and began to close in on the two fugitives. Ahead 
of them was the edge of the building, with a sheer verti- 
cal drop of a thousand feet. There was no bridgeway, 
no door. 

"Ha!" Quentin pointed to a flagpole from which 
floated a long silver streamer. It was some sort of a 
commercial signal to aircraft. The halliards on which the 
flag hung extended down over the edge of the roof. 
"Those ropes run into a window below." 

Figures in blue were running toward them. Jack slid 
down the rope first and disappeared. Quentin waited for 
the rope to loosen as Jack got off, uncertain as to whether 
it would hold their combined weight. But he found a 
policeman sliding down the rope after him. The police- 
man hung on tightly and moved gingerly ; Quentin looked 
up and saw his face ashy pale as it looked down at him. 
For the two of them swung out in space over a canyon 
a thousand feet deep, at the bottom of which moved 
slow streams of men and machines. A blended murmur 
came up to the two tiny men dangling high up there on 
a rope. 

The policeman was poking downward toward Quentin 
with his shock-rod. Other faces were looking down over 
the edge of the roof, tense and distorted. Jack shouted 
from below, some incoherent, encouraging thing. The 
policeman slid down faster to catch Quentin. Quentin 
jabbed viciously upwards with his shock-rod and felt it 
touch. The policeman went limp and seemed to float 
out into space. His blue body sprawled out and turned 
over and over as it fell. With deadly rapidity it grew 
smaller and contracted to a dot far down in the gloom 
below. Quentin felt himself drawn into the window and 
trembled as he sat down for an instant on the floor. 

Jack was dragging him toward a door. He could see 



the flag halliards tightening as another man started 
down. Out in the corridor they found gongs ringing 
and speakers bellowing, but no people. On all sides there 
was a roar and clatter of machinery behind closed doors. 
They opened one and dashed into a huge room full of 
big machines in rows ; steam sizzled and white linen 
flashed by. At the far end, from every machine in a 
long row came baskets piled high with clean laundry, 
and scudded along roller conveyors into openings in the 
wall. People were visible. The baskets of laundry dis- 
appearing into dark openings gave Quentin an idea. 

"Come on!" shouted Quentin. 

They ran across the room. Each seized one of the 
baskets, dumped the linen on the floor, set the basket 
back on the roller conveyor, and got into it. 

The darkness of the pit closed upon them. Machinery 
clattered and steam hissed. They bent low, not knowing 
what was above them. They felt themselves sink rapid- 
ly and again tipped level ; there were gears grinding as 
they rounded corners. There seemed no end of sinking 
down and down in the blackness. 

Finally, after a clatter of paper there came a burst of 
light. They saw clothes dumped out of baskets, wrapped 
in paper, and shot into tubes, all by machinery. They 
leaped out on the floor. Again there were no people. 
No bawling speakers. No gongs. Only the open mouths 
of pneumatic tubes, an endless row of them, each marked 
with its destination. Quentin eagerly looked for Brook- 
lyn. It took but a moment to find it. 

"All aboard for Long Island !" he shouted in glee. 

As a wrapped package came down the conveyor to- 
ward the Brooklyn tube, he rolled it off and they took its 
place. The lid popped shut on the tube, nearly rupturing 
their ear-drums, and they were plunged in darkness. 
After the first rush and swirl and roar, all was quiet for 
minutes. 

Again there was a roar and a crash and a burst of day- 
light. The two fugitives jumped up and ran, knocking 
over several astonished people who were waiting for 
packages; their destination was an open door with day- 
light beyond. Out there was a row of trucks with 
laundry packages dropping into them from overhead 
chutes. They were automatic trucks such as are used 
for making deliveries beyond the pneumatic-tube zone. 

They leaped into the foremost truck. Quentin set 
the switches on impulse for Bay Shore, because that was 
not where he wanted to go, and they both rolled bad; 
into the closed portion of the vehicle. The truck started 
slowly, gathered momentum, and automatically made its 
way out of the city. 

After fifteen minutes of eternity, they looked out. The 
truck was moving swiftly along a country road. Twi- 
light was gathering rapidly. 

"We'd better jump out and let it go on," Quentin 
suggested. "It's clever and powerful." 

"What is?" asked Jack, "the Police Department?" 

"The Machine. The Government Machine in Wash- 
ington and its subsidiary portion in New York. It's a 
big brain. The police are dumb tools." 

They waited for the truck to slow up around a curve. 
and jumped out. They alighted on grass. Jack rolled 
over and jumped up. Quentin found his breath gone 
and his head dizzy. He crawled unsteadily into the 
shelter of some shrubbery. In a few minutes a half- 
dozen speed-cycles on the road and planes in the air 
whizzed by, in pursuit of the laundry car. 



14 



AMAZING STORIES 



"See how quickly it works," Quentin said. 
"It's uncanny to hear you talk about it!" Jack ex- 
claimed. "It's inhuman !" 
"Next it will be flares and spotlights," Quentin warned. 
Quentin found walking difficult and felt a terrific 
headache. He must have gotten a crack on the head when 
he fell out of the truck. Jack supported him and they 
staggered on. Ten miles ahead was th;'V destination, 
his little country bungalow with its secret cellar. This 
was familiar terrain for Quentin, but ten miles cross- 
country in the darkness was none the less difficult. Even 
crossing a road would be dangerous. As they stumbled 
across field and through brush and timber, Quentin felt 
himself growing weaker. 

It was not long before the lights appeared. Ahead 
of them, to the right, the country was lighted as bright 
as day. 

"They're headed wrong," Quentin chuckled as he 
staggered desperately along. "We're going to the left 
at right angles to them." 

Quentin did not recollect the rest of the night very 
clearly. Jack's strong shoulders were a comfort without 
which he could not have gone a mile. His head cleared 
up now and then in flashes to answer Jack's questions, 
and again he would relapse into a half-comatose state 
in which he walked. The guiding of the way depended 
on him. 

"No rest from the Machine," went round and round 
in his head. "On all sides of us, thousands, millions of 
tentacles are squirming to close in on us, day and night. 
Soon my buzzing brain will give out Then the Machine 
will reach out and pick us up. The Machine ought to be 

destroyed 1 

"But that is treason," leaped through his brain in a 
sudden shock. "How do I dare even think such treason ? 
Because my head sings from the bump it got, I suppose. 
But suppose Jack thought that. That would not be 
treason. And Jack has physical courage to do things, 
even to destroy the machine. It would be easy to do: 
just that one square building. Wreck that, and the 
Government Machine is dead. Jack would dare it if I 
told .him. 

"But I can't make myself tell him. It is treason. 
Even to think it is treason. Why can't he see it himself ? 

I keep giving him hints " 

Jack kept continuously interrupting him with ques- 
tions. 

"How can they make it so much like daylight over 
there ?" 

Quentin hoped in a dazed way that his explanation 
of the thousand-foot flare circles that eliminated shadows, 
was correct. Then again he trudged on in his sleep, till 
he was roused by Jack's. 
"How do we get across?" 

He came wide awake for a moment. In front was a 
twenty-foot wall. 

"The Long Island Transformer Depot. We'll have 
to go around. To the left. That was a bad crack on my 
head. I've got to rest." 

Jack had to lift him and drag him a few feet before 
his legs got to swinging again. Then again came Jack's 
demand for a key. 

"Got to move," Jack said. "The lights are starting 
this way." 

"Here we are !" Quentin shouted as he came to again. 
He unlocked the door to the little bungalow. They 



found themselves in a small hallway from which steps 
led down to the spacious underground shop. 

Jack gasped in amazement at it. 

"I understood you to say," he exclaimed, "that you 
did this secretly and alone. Why, digging this cave 
would take years of time." 

Quentin was nodding drowsily again. 

"Power is cheap," he said. "See there." 

There was a heap of cartridge-like things. 

"I dug out this place with those. Screw a red one to a 
blue one and drop them. It is a slow explosion. No 
noise. But in a few moments everything, iron, rock, 
everything is a loose, fluffy powder. I swept it out. And 
now I've got to sleep. My head hurts." 

CHAPTER IV 

OUEXTIN awoke to the humming of smooth, 
well-adjusted machinery. Bright sunlight shone 
full upon him. He lay and rested, and was. con- 
scious of a headache. There was a painful lump on 
his occiput. He studied the strange place about him. 

Finally he realized that it was the cabin of his own 
secret plane. He sat up. Down below was blue water, 
and to the left a beautiful k»cy shore and blue mountains. 
In front of him was Jack, peering ahead. As Jack heard 
a stir behind him, he sat up ; his face lighted up to see 
Quentin awake. 

"Where are we?" Quentin asked. 

"I'm no geographer," Jack said, "but it must be the 
Mediterranean." 

"See!" continued the boy. "We got away from 'em? 
Or from It, as you say." He grinned as though on a 
schoolboy lark. 

Quentin shook his head gloomily. 

"We're not out of it yet. Sooner or later it will get 
us— anywhere on this earth. My big hope is that I 
might see Martha first." 

He sat, sunk in gloomy thoughts. Jack grinned hap- 
pily. He seemed to be a creature that responded to the 
happy stimuli of the present, and forgot that there was 
a future. 

"You need some breakfast, sir," he said. "Then, you'll 
feel better." 

Quentin ate and then lay down and slept again. After 
he awoke, he spent many hours searching the sky around 
him and the fleeting ground below. It was acute tor- 
ture to feel that every moment a swarm of planes would 
swoop down on them. Every dot in the blue caused him 
to peer intently and with beating heart and clutching 
hands, c idl it was passed by safely. But it began to 
look hopeful as they passed over Asia Minor and into 
India, without any sign of pursuit or interference. He 
permitted pleasant thoughts of Martha to flow through 
his mind. 

Above northern India he became alert. Eagerly he 
watched the Himalayas fall behind. The machine needed 
only an occasional touch for guidance. A shout from 
Jack called his attention to the green levels of Demo- 
cratia. Slowly its woods and mountains separated them- 
selves from the blue haze. Then they crossed its edge. 
They headed toward the capital. 

Quentin's heart pounded. He was now confident that 
no matter what happened eventually, he would see 
Martha first. Up to the present time he had been racked 
with uncertainty. Her image rose up before his eyes, 



MECHANOCRACY 



15 



and his veins tingled and his breath came short with an- 
ticipation. 

The radio of Quentin's plane could not tune in with 
the inferior ones of Democratia; none of his messages 
got through. Therefore, no one awaited them at the 
landing-field. But, after telephoning and driving in a 
car, they were eventually at the house of Jack's father, 
and Quentin and Martha were in each other's arms. 
And after that, the four of them were gravely discuss- 
ing the future. 

"There is no hope," Quentin said. "The Government 
considers that it owns the Earth. It has pronounced 
sentence and nothing on earth can prevent its being car- 
ried out." 

"How do you suppose they will do it ?" asked Quen- 
tin's host; "Explosives?" 

"Hardly explosives," considered Quentin. "Gas prob- 
ably. Gas bombs from planes. Electric charges and 
disease bacilli are possible, but the one is unnecessarily 
expensive and the other unnecessarily brutal. The 
Government Machine is inexorable ; but it will do noth- 
ing unnecessary. It is hard for you to realize the abso- 
lutely perfect, impersonal logic of the Machine. My 
guess is gas, some swift, painless gas." 

"Perhaps," Jack said, "they will shout us to death 
with those shriekers they had on all their floors." 

"Now, Jack !" Martha protested, in tears. She clung 
to Quentin. "But it's just like you, being silly, even in 
the face of death." 

"What I ought to do," Jack bantered, swelling up his 
biceps, "is to punch the face of death right in the nose." 
Jack loved his sister and was doing his best to cheer her 
up in his clumsy way. 

Then they discussed whether or not an alarm ought to 
be spread among the people of Democratia. Quentin's 
host was in a responsible government position and had 
authority to decide. 

"What would be the use?" Quentin asked. "No de- 
fense is possible. No escape is possible. There would 
only be panic and riots and needless suffering. It is most 
merciful to let it come as a complete surprise." 

"We'll carry the burden, then.'* 

Quentin and Martha spent most of the day clinging 
close together. There was no sleep for them nor for her, 
father that night. 

"Isn't it terrible!" Martha exclaimed, "to see that 
young animal, Jack, sleep soundly in spite of all this? 
Hasn't he any feelings ? We may never see the morning 
light again." 

But morning dawned bright and clear upon the smiling 
land. It was torture to the three people who anxiously 
scanned the sky. Jack went out to play golf and the 
rest of the nation went about its business. 

In the middle of the forenoon four planes appeared 
in the southern sky. Shortly afterwards Jack came in, 
much interested in them, but showing no fear. He was 
certainly a primitive creature. 

The planes came straight toward the city, and the three 
watchers prepared to die ; and bade goodbye to each other 



and to Jack, who by this time had grown serious and 
looked worried. 

Quentin was almost breathless when the planes set- 
tled hesitatingly on the landing-field. An emergency 
car hurried him and his companion out there. There, 
in a circle between the four planes, were a dozen people, 
most of whom Quentin recognized as prominent figures 
in New York life. But they looked pale and crushed; 
they looked about furtively and helplessly. Despair 
showed in their attitudes and in their silence. They 
livened up a little when they saw Quentin approaching. 
He looked at them in amazement and waited for them 
to speak. 

' "We've come to ask for help," one of them said. 
"Will you help us?" 

Again Quentin could not find words, 

"The world is in chaos," the man said. "Disorder. 
Starvation. Disease. People are dying by millions. 
Trampling, exposure, suicide— no one knows What to 
do." 

"What in the world has happened?" Quentin managed 
to gasp. 

"An explosion," the man answered. "The key parts 
of the Government Machine are totally destroyed. No 
one knows how to repair it. The world is disorganized." 

Quentin stared blankly. 

"We thought perhaps you had done it," the man con- 
tinued. "We knew of your daring escape " 

Quentin silently shook his head. Then he got a sud- 
den idea. 

"Jack!" he said sharply, turning toward that young 
man. "You rascal " 

Jack sheepishly came out from behind his sister. 

"What do you know about this ?" Quentin demanded, 

"Well," Jack stammered. "You were so positive that 
inhuman thing would catch us sooner or later — I didn't 
want to take any chances. It wanted to kill all of our 
people. And you were knocked out with a bump on your 
head 

"The red and blue cartridges looked interesting. I 
tried a pair out on a couple of police cycles that were 
snooping around outside the house. It wiped them out. 

"So I rolled you into the plane, blew the doors open, 
shoveled in the cartridges, and headed for Washington. 
I spent that trip screwing together as many as I could. 
Then I spilled a couple of hatfuls on the Government 
Building, and waited only long enough to see the cor- 
ners begin to crumple. Then I lit out, straight up in 
the air. There were too many planes around— — 

The rest was smothered in his sister's hug. His father 
had an arm about his shoulders. Quentin slapped him 
on the back. 

The spokesman again approached Quentin. 

"Will you and these people help us?" 

"We will," Martha's father said. 

"We'll reorganize the world," said Quentin. 

"As a democracy," Jack added. 

"And you, Jack," Quentin said, "will do a whale of a 
big share of the job. We need guys like you." 



The End 



s. 



even 



Sunstrokes 



By Bob Olsen 

Author of "The Educated Pill," "The Master of Mystery," etc: 

7) Y slowly progressive injections of poison, the decision might finally be handed 
JLJ down in the words "Died from natural causes." An autopsy would, of 
course, show traces of the poison, hut why should there be an autopsy performed? 
However, there are substances — and if you are an advanced student of chemistry, 
you might know some — that are absolutely harmless unless directly contacted with 
an otherwise beneficial element. There is a scientific detective, avocationally 
speaking, in this story, but it is so full of clever adaptations of chemistry and 
so well written that we give you "Seven Sunstrokes" without any hesitation. 

Illustrated by MOREY 



G c 



CHAPTER I 
A New Puzzle 

I OOD afternoon," said the pleasant voice 
of the telephone girl. "This is the Pryor 
Merchandising Bureau." 

"Is Mr. Pryor there? If he is, tell him 
that Detective Lieutenant Spangler is call? 
ing him." 

A moment later, Justin Pryor, known among his busi- 
ness acquaintances as "The Master of Mystery," picked 
up the receiver. 
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. This is Pryor talking." 
"Oh, hello, Mr. Pryor. I think I have a case for you 
if you care to take it." 

"A case?" Pryor questioned. "What sort of case?" 
"Another murder case. At least it looks like murder 
— wholesale murder — five murders to be exact." 

"But my dear Lieutenant, you must be laboring under 
a misapprehension, I'm not a detective — or at least I'm 
not a detective of crime. I'm a business counsellor. 
Crime is entirely out of my line." 

"Maybe crime is out of your line, Mr. Pryor, but for 
an amateur you certainly did a good job of solving that 
Steele murder. Thr system you use in your business 
seems to work just as well in solving crimes and it hap- 
pens that these particular crimes are right down your 
alley." 

"Just what do you mean by that, if I may ask?" 
"These murders — if they are' murders — must have 
been committed by someone who knew a lot about 
science. Whoever did it is altogether too clever for the 
police and detective departments. I'm not worried be- 
cause it doesn't happen to come in my territory. But if 
I had the job of tracking the murderer, I'd have to ad- 
mit that I was licked before I even got started." 



"I see," Pryor responded. "Sorry I can't help. 
Goodbye." 

"Just a minute," Spangler yelled. "Please don't hang 
up on me yet. I've been told that you'd rather work 
out a hard problem than eat or sleep. Isn't that right?" 

"I am rather fond of puzzles."' Pryor admitted, 

"Then you'll get a kick out of this one. To me it looks 
like the greatest puzzle in the history of crime." 

"You don't say so !" There was no mistaking the 
tense eagerness in Pryor's voice as he uttered these 
words, "Tell me about it." 

"During the past month, five men have died." 

"Nothing unusual about that." 

"I know. The unusual part of it is that they all died 
of sunstroke." 

"I thought you said they were murdered." 

"That was just a case of repeating somebody else's 
- opinion. I know very little about it myself. But there 
is a man in my office right now who seems to know a 
lot about it. His name is James Strickland. The five 
men who were killed were close friends of his. All of 
them, including Strickland, got mixed up in a scandal 
some time ago and he thinks that the deaths of his five 
friends were brought about by some revengeful person 
connected with this scandal. After what happened to 
his pals, Strickland doesn't feel so safe himself. He has 
plenty of dough and he is willing to pay you a sub- 
stantial fee for handling the case." 

"From what you say, Strickland needs a body-guard 
more than he does a business counsellor," Pryor sug- 
gested. 

"He has a body-guard. But gunmen can't very well 
protect him against sunstroke. That's why he needs a 
scientist. And I don't know of anyone who could do 
the job like you can. Strickland came to r*. t for advice. 
I told him about you and he wants to meet you. Can 
I send him over to vour office right now?" 




an ordinary hypodermic syringe," he 

explained, "I inject a small quantity of the 

solution into the blood stream of the mouse 

. . . notice what happens when I place it 

in the sunlight." 



18 



AMAZING STORIES 



"Oh, I suppose so. I'm dreadfully busy today but, 
after all, really good puzzles are rare you know." 

From the instant Strickland stepped into his office, 
Pryor took a violent dislike to him. The man was 
coarse and heavy-set. His breath reeked of liquor. On 
his fat, sensual countenance were engraved the hiero- 
glyphics which told to the student of physiognomy a 
story of vice and depravity. 

"So this is Mr. Pryor, the great scientist," he said in 
a husky voice as he extended a flabby hand. 

It reminded Pryor of a jelly fish, that hand, and he 
dropped it with an ill-concealed shiver of disgust. 

"I'm not exactly a scientist," Pryor corrected him. 
"My work is in diagnosing and prescribing for sick 
businesses." 

"That's one thing I don't exactly savvy. I see by the 
sign on your door that you call yourself a business coun- 
sellor. What does that mean ? Is your job to tell a firm 
how to run the business?" 

"Not exactly. Usually my work concerns only some 
specific problem of manufacture or marketing." 

"I still don't get you." 

"Perhaps an illustration will make it clear. Here's 
a typical case : One of my clients manufactures an ant 
exterminator. Preparations of this sort must contain 
poisons which are deadly to human beings and pets. 
Most of them are sweet in taste. There have been a 
number of cases of valuable dogs and even of children 
who have been killed by eating ant exterminators. 

"My client, the Marvel Company, got around this 
objection by making their exterminator in the form of 
gelatin. This is packed in small, sealed tin cans. The 
user simply punches four holes near the top of the can 
with a nail, through which the ants can crawl to get 
the sweetened, poisoned gelatin. Since the cans are 
sealed and the contents cannot be poured or shaken 
through the small holes, there is no danger of children 
or animals eating it." 

"Sure, I know about that dope," Strickland assured 
him. "I've used it myself. But where do you come in 
on this racket?" 

"I was called in when they began to have trouble. 
Repeated tests showed that the preparation retained its 
efficacy indefinitely in some localities, while in other 
places the ants refused to go near the cans. The Marvel 
people were at their wit's ends to explain this mystery 
and meanwhile they lost a lot of business. Dealers who 
had been boosters when the product was first introduced, 
refused to restock it, and it looked as though the com- 
pany would have to go out of business. As a last re- 
course, they called me in." 

"And what did you do about it?" 

"I secured one of the cans which had been shunned 
by the ants, opened it with a can opener and made a 
microscopic examination of its contents. I discovered 
that a tiny mold had formed over the surface of the 
gelatin. It was indiscernible to the naked human eye, 
but amply sufficient to make the material unpalatable 
to the ants. All I had to do then was to discover a pre- 
servative that would prevent the formation of that mold 
on the gelatin and the problem was solved. The Marvel 
people were glad to pay me several thousand dollars for 
my services." 

"That was pretty soft for you, Mr. Pryor," Strick- 
> land said. "And, speaking of fees, how much will you 
charge me to handle this case of mine?'' 



"I'm not so sure I want to handle it," Pryor told him. 

"Is that so?" Strickland snarled. "Well, let me tell 
you something, Mr. Business Counsellor. If you know 
what's good for you, you'll take my case whether you 
feel like it or not. Get me ?" 

"I can't say that I do 'get' you," said Pryor calmly. 
"And, if you will pardon my saying so, I don't exactly 
like your attitude. And now, since I happen to be very 
busy, I trust that you will excuse me." 

He stepped to the door, opened it and stood there wait- 
ing for the other man to depart. 

CHAPTER II 

A Sordid Story 

STRICKLAND made no effort to leave his seat. But 
his face lost its hateful, threatening lines and as- 
sumed what he meant to be an expression of 
friendly good nature. Pryor's eyes saw only a fatuous, 
egotistical leer. 

"Aw, don't get sore, Mr. Pryor," the visitor whined. 
"I was only fooling. I didn't mean no offense. This 
thing has got my goat. Can't help being jumpy and 
quick on the trigger. According to what Spangler said, 
you are about the only man hi California that can help 
me. I need help bad, I do. Won't you please listen to 
me ?" 

"As long as you keep that attitude, I shall be glad to 
listen to you," Pryor said graciously. "But I must ask 
you to be brief. I am extremely busy and I cannot 
promise to take your case iinless — " 

"Unless what?" Strickland demanded. "If it's 
money — " 

"Financial remuneration is the least consideration for 
me," the business counsellor interrupted him. "There 
is only one thing that might induce me to handle your 
work." 

"And what is that?" 

"If, as Lieutenant Spangler hinted, this case is a ita! 
puzzle — one that is supremely difficult to solve — I may 
consider handling it." 

With eyebrows arching, Strickland's face assumed a 
ludicrous expression of amazement. "You're a kind of 
a puzzle yourself, Mr. Pryor," he remarked. "Here 
you have a chance to make a lot of jack and you want 
to spend your time working conundrums. And you call 
yourself a business man." 

"But you seem to forget that you are asking me to do 
something that is outside my regular business. With 
me, investigating crime is not a vocation, but a recre- 
ation. If I can't enjoy it, I intend to keep scrupulously 
away from it. Suppose you tell me your story as con- 
cisely as possible. It won't take me long to decide 
whether I wish to investigate it further." 

"O. K., Mr. Pryor. I may as well tell you that I am a 
saloon keeper." 

"A saloon keeper ?" Pryor doubted. "I suppose you 
mean that you operate a speakeasy." 

"Saloon is the right word for it. My business is 
strictly legal and legitimate. You see, it is located in 
Elsonado, just across the border in Old Mexico. 

"That will give you a line on the whole works. Of 
course you remember the Whipple case. The news- 
papers were full with it about a year and a half ago." 

"I have only a very dim recollection of the story. 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



19 



You see I very seldom read news articles about crimes. 
The headlines are about all I have time for. Please 
enlighten me." 

"Whipple was a typical tourist. Came to California 
from Iowa. Brought his daughter along. She was 
supposed to be seventeen. I think that was a lie, myself. 
To me she looked old enough to vote." 
"You saw her then ?" 

"Sure I did. She was hanging around my saloon for 
nearly an hour. Didn't drink anything but soda pop, 
though. Funny, ain't it, about these Eastern tourists? 
Back in Iowa they wouldn't think of going near a place 
where folks was drinking liquor. They wouldn't even 
play penny ante for money. But when they come out 
here on a vacation they get a big kick out of going 
into a real saloon, putting their feet on the brass rail, 
and risking their quarters in the slot machines." 

"That's understandable," Pryor interposed. "And 
what happened to the Whipple girl ?" 

"She got separated from her old man. Some say she 
ditched him on purpose. Others claim that somebody 
put knock-out drops in her soda pop. Take your choice." 
"What is your version of the incident, Mr. Strick- 
land?" 

"I don't pretend to know nothing about it. I'm just 
telling you what the papers said. Whipple hunted his 
daughter Ruth all over Elsonado. He didn't find her 
until two days later. You can easily imagine what she 
looked like and the story she told the old man." 

"Yes," Pryor agreed. "That I can easily imagine. 
And after that?" 

"Whipple took Ruth to Los Angeles. He was either 
screwey or else he had a funny twist in his make-up. 
You remember what he done, don't you? He rented an 
apartment. Next day they found Whipple and his 
daughter dead in the room with the gas turned on. 
From the position of the bodies it looked like the girl 
knew what was going to happen and lay down on the bed 
of her own free will. A note was found signed by 
Whipple. It said that he couldn't stand the disgrace 
and that he had decided to end it all. That's what started 
the big buzz in the newspapers." 

"I see. And by 'big buzz' I suppose you mean that 
there was an investigation." 

"I'll say there was an investigation. A couple of guys 
that had it in for me squealed to the reporters. They 
claimed that I engineered the whole rotten mess. Two 
guys that worked for me and three that were connected 
with a joint three blocks away from my place were 
accused of doing all the dirty work. The newspapers 
sure made the most of it-. They tried to get the police 
of Elsonado to pinch us, but the bulls knew better than 
to do that. Then the story went out that I had the police 
fixed. Finally somebody brought pressure to bear 
through Washington and the six of us was indicted. We 
was tried but the jury acquitted us in short order, of 
course." 

"As I remember it," Pryor interposed, "the acquittal 
was due partly to the fact that the leading witness for 
the prosecution failed to appear at the trial. A few 
weeks later the reason for his absence was made clear. 
His body was found out in the desert, riddled with 
bullets. How do you account for that ?" 

"You seem to know something about the Whipple 
case after all," Strickland grinned. 
"About that part of it, yes. It is incidents like that 



which interest me most. No doubt you can explain why 
this witness was killed." 

"I don't know nothing about it personally, if that's 
what you are driving at. He just got what often hap- 
pens to a guy that don't know enough to keep his mouth 
shut." 

"I see. And after the trial and acquittal — what hap- 
pened then?" 

"Nothing happened for several mon'.hs. Then Torrez 
was killed." 

"Torrez? He was the proprietor of that other estab- 
lishment you referred to, was he not ?" 

"Yep. He ran the dive where the Whipple girl 
finally landed." 

"How was he killed ?" 

"The coroner said he died by sunstroke. But I hap- 
pen to know that he was poisoned." 

"What makes you think that?" 

"Because every one of the guys that was mixed tip in 
the case except me died the same way." 

"Of sunstroke, you mean?" 

"Of what the coroner called sunstroke." 

"But isn't it possible that they all did die of sun- 
stroke ?" 

"Maybe it is possible. But it sure looked phoney to 
me. I'll leave it to you. You've been in California for 
several years, haven't you?" 

"Twelve years, to be exact." 

"All right. And during those twelve years how many 
times have you heard about anybody dying in California 
of sunstroke?" 

"Now that you mention it, I can't remember a single 
case of sunstroke that resulted fatally." 

"Neither could anybody else — until four of these birds 
was killed in a row — one right after the other. And the 
funny part of it was that on the days they died, the sun 
wasn't especially strong either. Doesn't that sound 
fishy to you?" 

"It does look like a mystery. I understood you to say 
that these five men were all closely associated with each 
other. That suggests a contagion of some sort. Perhaps 
it was some rare disease which was not understood by 
the coroners who officiated at the inquest, and which 
was transmitted from one of these men to the others." 

"I thought of that, too. But it don't hold water. 
You see it happens that, excepting for one guy named 
Marvido, the others wasn't within a hundred miles of 
Torres or of each other for at least two months before 
they died. On the other hand there was hundreds of 
other people who came in close contact with these men 
every day and none of them died of sunstroke or any- 
thing else. How would you explain that?" 

"I'm not trying to explain anything yet. I'm merely 
seeking information," Pryor told him. 

"Well, I guess you got most of the dope now. Any- 
thing else you want to know ?" 

"I suppose I may as well ask a few conventional 
questions — the kind a professional detective would ask 
under the circumstances." 

"O. K. Shoot !" . 

"Assuming that these five men were poisoned, have 
you any reason to suspect any particular individual of 
administering the poison?" 

"I don't quite get you." 

"Let me put it this way : Do you know of anyone who 
would be impelled to avenge the death of the Whipples?" - 



20 



AMAZING STORIES 



"I guess there were thousands of people that were 
sore about it." 

"Naturally. Almost any upright person would be 
righteously indignant under the circumstances. But it 
is hard to believe that such a person would go to the 
extent of committing murder unless he happened to be a 
relative or close friend of the wronged girl. Murder 
is a pretty risky business. Do you know of anyone who 
would be likely to take that risk?" 

"Damned if I do. So far as I know, the Whipples 
didn't have any relatives or close friends in California." 

"I see. And about the localities of these five deaths — 
did they all happen in the same place?" 

"No. They happened in five different places. Torrez 
died on the beach at Coronado. Marvido dropped dead 
in Elsonado. Muller was at Long Beach when he got 
his. Smith went to Frisco a few months after the trial 
and Mendez was killed some place in Texas." 

"How do you know they all died of sunstroke?" 

"After what happened to Torrez and Marvido, I 
thought things looked kind of fishy, so I took the trouble 
to keep tabs on the other three." 

"I see. And I presume that -your interest in this 
case is due to the fact that these five men were all 
friends of yours." 

"Hell no. Except for Torrez, they were just a bunch 
of bums. Two of them worked for me. Smith was a 
bartender and Mendez cleaned out the spittoons and did 
all the other dirty work around the saloon." 

"Nevertheless you are willing to spend money in the 
hope of apprehending the person whom you think re- 
sponsible for their deaths." 

"I don't give a damn about them, if that's what you 
mean. All I'm interested in is myself. If this is a 
frame-up, as I think it is, I may be the next one to be 
put on the spot. What I want to do is beat the killer to 
the draw. I'm depending on you to nab this bird before 
he has a chance to get me. Understand?" 

"Perfectly." 

"O. K. Glad that's settled. Now how much dough 
do you want in advance ?" Strickland took out his check 
book, unscrewed the cap of his fountain pen and waited 
for Pryor to name a retainer fee. 

"Never mind the money question, now, Mr. Strick- 
land," Pryor told him. "I won't be able to start on your 
case for several days anyway. I'm right in the midst of 
a problem now and I make it a rule never to start on a 
new puzzle until I have solved the one on hand." 

"The Hell you say," Strickland swore. "Don't you 
realize that this is a matter of life and death? While 
we're waiting for you to work out your riddles, this 
guy may croak me." 

"If you follow my instructions, I don't think you need 
to fear anything of that sort. The history of crime in- 
dicates that after a criminal has succeeded in accom- 
plishing his purpose once, he almost invariably uses 
identically the same method in carrying out subsequent 
crimes. Scotland Yard has built up a complete sys- 
tem of crime detection based on this well-established 
principle. They call it the "M, O. System" which is 
an abbreviation for "modus operandi." From what you 
have told me, there can be little doubt that, if this sup- 
posed murderer attempts to do away with you, he will 
use sunlight as his chief weapon. It ought to be pos- 
sible for you to protect yourself, by avoiding the direct 
rays of the sun. I suggest that you wear black gloves 



on your hands and that you shade your face and neck 
with a broad brimmed hat. Under no circumstances 
must you expose any part of your skin to direct sun- 
light. Do you understand?" 

"Sure. That sounds like good advice." I believe I'll 
do it. And when will you be able to start work trailing 
the killer?" 

"That's hard to say. It all depends on the progress 
I make on my present task. It may be a few hours 
and it may be weeks. However, I have reason to hope 
that I shall find the solution within the next few days. 
As soon as that happens, I shall get in touch with you. 
Please leave your phone number with my secretary as 
you pass out." 

CHAPTER III 

An Ominous Warning 

ON the following morning Pryor's office saw him 
not. He was out visiting garages, talking to 
service station attendants and interviewing car 
owners in an endeavor to ascertain the reasons why the 
sale of a certain brand of automobile polish had fallen 
off at a rate that had seriously alarmed its manufac- 
turers. 

When, at about four-thirty in the afternoon, he fi- 
nally made his appearance, his secretary, Miss Field, 
greeted him with, "Mr. Strickland has been trying to 
get you all day. When I told him I didn't expect you in 
until late he became quite frantic. He asked me to be 
sure and have you phone him the moment you arrived. 
Shall I call him now?" 

"No," the Master of Mystery said bluntly. "He has 
no business to take up my time now. I made it clear to 
him that I would not start on his case until I have fin- 
ished the Crystalac investigation." 

"He said he'd call again. If he does, what shall I 
tell him?" 

"Oh, I suppose I may as well talk to him." 

Ten minutes later, the phone rang and Miss Field 
notified her employer that Mr. Strickland was on the 
line. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Strickland," Pryor greeted him. 
"What can I do for you?" 

"I must see you at once, Mr. Pryor. Can you come 
out to my house right away?" 

"I'm afraid that will be impossible. As I told you 
yesterday — " 

"Never mind what you told me yesterday. Something 
has happened — something that scared the pants off me. 
Won't you please help me ?" ■ Even over the phone the 
note of terror in his voice was plainly noticeable. 

"Sorry, Mr. Strickland, but I am under contract with 
one of my regular clients. I have definitely promised — " 

"To hell with your promise 1 Can't you understand 
that my life is in danger? Don't that mean nothing to 
you ?" 

Pryor wanted to tell him that it didn't mean a thing, 
but he relented and answered, "Why, of course. But 
can't you tell me over the phone what happened?" 

"I don't like to. I'm scared somebody will hear me 
and I don't want my daughter to worry. But if you 
can't come out, let me tell you this much : I got a letter 
today, do you understand — a letter that was mailed 
yesterday from Mexico. The Elsonado postmark is on 
the envelope." 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



21 



"You opened it, of course." 

"Sure I opened it. That's why I'm scared. It was a 
letter. And it proves that there ain't no bunk about 
those five other guys getting murdered." 

"Were they mentioned in the letter?" 

"Not by name. Can't you come out this evening and 
give it the once over?" 

"I'm afraid not. I suggest that you get in touch with 
Lieutenant Spangler or somebody in the police depart- 
ment. If the letter threatens you, it is a matter for the 
police. I think you understand, do you not, that I am 
neither a police officer nor a detective." 

"But ain't you going to do something about it?" 

"Not until I am ready to see the whole matter through 
to the finish. Why don't you call the Lieutenant? I 
am sure he will be glad to help you. In a matter of this 
sort he can help you far more than I can." 

"All right! All right! I guess you're not worried 
over what happens to me." 

"To be brutally frank, I don't see why I should worry 
about you, Mr. Strickland. As I told you before, I shall 
let you know when I am ready. Goodbye." And he 
hung up the phone. 

Half an hour later, when he was just about to leave 
his office, the telephone rang again. This time it was 
Spangler. 

"Excuse me for calling you, Mr. Pryor," the detective 
began, "but this Strickland case looks mighty serious. 
I understand that he told you all about the letter he 
received." 

"Not all about it. I am very busy, I have made a 
contract with one of my clients which requires me to de- 
vote all my attention to his problem until I have solved 
it. This I tried to explain to Strickland, but he refused 
to listen. I advised him to get in touch with you. Ap- 
parently he took my suggestion. For my part, I am not 
interested at present, and for that reason I did not ask 
for any details concerning this letter." 

'Tve seen it," Spangler told him. "It virtually amounts 
to a threat against Strickland's life." 

"You don't say." 

"I sure do. Want me to read it to you?" 

"Please do." 

This is the message which Spangler read over the 
phone : 

"My dear Mr. Strickland: 
"You are number six. As you undoubtedly know, 
the other five have already been executed for their 
crimes. For cogent reasons you have been saved 
until last. You are also being accorded privileges 
which none of the others received — you are being 
warned in advance to prepare for death. By the 
time you receive this, it will be too late for you or 
anyone else to do anything to save you. Right now 
you are in the death cell, awaiting the hour of your 
execution, which is not far distant. Remorse or re- 
pentance could hardly be expected of a man like you, 
but if you have anything important to accomplish 
before you die, you had better do it at once. 

The Avenger." 
When he had finished reading, Spangler remarked: 

"That's what the letter says. What do you make of 

it?" 
"Would you mind reading the third sentence again?" 
"Glad to. Here it is : 'For cogent reasons — ' " 



"That's all I wanted to hear," Pryor interrupted. 
"That seems to corroborate my theory." 
"What is your theory?" 

"That the person behind this plot must be well edu- 
cated. That would seem to be verified by the use of the 
word 'cogent,' which is rather unusual in the ordinary 
vocabulary." 

"I'll say it is unusual. What in the dickens does it 
mean anyway?" 

"The meaning of the word doesn't matter. The fact 
that the word was used at all is the significant consider- 
ation." 

"1*11 take your word for it. And what would you ad- 
vise us to do next?" 

"The answer to that is obvious, as you of course know, 
Lieutenant. Find the author of that letter and you will 
probably find the murderer. That is, unless the letter 
is only the work of a crank." 

"Doesn't look like that to me," Spangler assured him. 
"I've seen lots of crank letters, but this one is alto- 
gether different. It's too damn serious, and the man 
who wrote it seems to know more than any crank would 
be likely to know." 

"In that case it will undoubtedly be advisable to find 
out who wrote the letter. That is a matter which you and 
your assistants can take care of as well as anybody I 
know." 

"Thanks for the grapefruit, Mr. Pryor, but in this 
case I'm afraid I'm running into a lot of grief. The 
letter was postmarked Elsonado. It was mailed on 
December 24. There were thousands of visitors in 
Elsonado that day so it would be like hunting for a 
needle in a haystack to try to find out who mailed that 
letter. It looks like a blind. If the man who wrote it 
really intends to carry out his threat he must be in Los 
Angeles right now." 

"How about the paper and envelope?" Pryor asked. 
"Any possibility of tracing them?" 

"The envelope is very ordinary — the kind that can be 
bought at any stationery store. The paper is odd, 
though. So is the way the message is printed on it." 
"In what way is the paper odd?" 
"It's like a blue print, only the lettering isn't white; 
it's a greenish blue, almost as dark as the paper itself. I 
can just barely read it." 

"From what you say, it looks like it is a blue print — 
probably one that hasn't been fixed. If that's the case 
it will soon fade out. Have you had a photostat made 
of it." 

"Not yet, but I'm going to have that done right away. 
Do you know any way I can stop the letters from fading 
out ?" 

"If it is an ordinary blue print, all you need to do is 
to soak it for half an hour in running water. I wouldn't 
advise you to do that, though. It looks as if the man 
who sent the letter planned it very carefully so that the 
evidence would be destroyed. If that's the case, the 
likelihood is that he has thought of the common methods 
of handling paper like that and has provided for all 
probable contingencies." 

"That's what I'm afraid of myself. Gosh, Mr. Pryor, 
I wish you would sit in here with me." 

"I'd like to very much, but I'm afraid that will be 
impossible until after I have finished the task on which 
I am now working. Nevertheless, if you wish me to 
make a suggestion, I can tell you in a few words what I 



22 



AMAZING STORIES 



would do under the circumstances as I understand them." 
"I wish you would do that, Mr. Pryor." 
"Very well, then. Suppose you cut off a corner of the 
paper containing a few letters of the message that do 
not affect the meaning of the message as a whole. Soak 
that piece in water and see what happens. In the mean- 
time I would keep the remainder of the sheet thor- 
oughly covered with something that is impervious to 
light and I'd arrange to have it photographed as soon 
as possible. If you find that the water treatment works 
all right with the small fragment you will still be able 
to use the same process on the rest of the message." 

"That sounds like good advice. I'll try it. AH the 
same, I wish you could take an active hand in this case. 
Sorry to bother you when you're so busy ; but as soon 
as you are at liberty, give me a buzz, will you." 
"I'll be glad to. Goodbye." 

CHAPTER IV 

Murder Number Six 

FOR two more days Pryor labored assiduously at 
the automobile polish investigation. As was the 
case with every problem he had ever tackled, suc- 
cess crowned his efforts. With an overwhelming weight 
of evidence he proved that the substantial decrease in 
the demand for Crystalac was due to an unpleasant odor 
which the product acquired after it had been exposed 
to the air for some time. Numerous experiments had 
shown that the smell had no effect on the polishing 
properties of the product but it was sufficient to make it 
undesirable to a large number of users who were other- 
wise very well satisfied with it. 

Pryor solved the problem with characteristic speed and 
simplicity. He recommended adding to the formula an 
ingredient having an agreeable odor powerful enough to 
cover up the unpleasant smell. A hundred samples 
of the altered product distributed to men and women 
of various types demonstrated that it was entirely 
acceptable to the public in its new form. This work 
he completed on the afternoon of December 31. The fol- 
lowing day being a holiday, he waited until the morning 
of January 2, and then, true to his promise, he in- 
structed his girl to call Strickland's telephone number. 
There was a considerable delay before she signaled her 
employer to lift his phone. 

"Good morning, Mr. Strickland," was Pryor's greet- 
ing. 

"This is not Mr. Strickland," the voice at the other 
end of the line said. "This is his butler speaking. Mr. 
Strickland is not able to come to the telephone." 

A strange premonition prompted Pryor to say, "Has 
anything happened to Mr. Strickland — anything serious, 
I mean?" 

"Yes, Sir. Something has happened to him. Some- 
thing serious. Something egregiously serious." 

"Don't tell me he is — " He stopped with his sentence 
hanging in midair when he heard, as if in the distance, 
an excited voice say, "Give me that phone." 

A moment later this second voice was talking direct- 
ly into the transmitter. "Who is this talking." 

"This is Justin Pryor." 

"Oh, hello, Mr. Pryor!" 

"Your voice sounds like Lieutenant Spangler's," 

"You're a good guesser. Spangler it is. And now see 



if you can guess why I happened to be here when you 
called up." 

"I don't need to guess," Pryor informed him. "You 
are there to investigate the death of James Strickland." 

"How the devil did you know that? The butler didn't 
tell you, did he?" 

"No. He merely told me that Mr. Strickland was 
unable to come to the phone." 

"Then how did you know he was dead?" 

"It was what you would call a 'hunch'— nothing more 
I assure you. I suppose it is necessary for me to ask you 
what was the cause of his death. He died of sunstroke, 
of course." 

"Sunstroke?" Spangler exclaimed. "Say, you're not 
trying to kid me, are you?" 

"Certainly not. Why?" 

"Strickland was found dead in his own bathroom early 
this morning. Now how in the devil could a man die 
of sunstroke inside of a house in California, on the 
second of January, when it is cold and foggy outside? 
There's a puzzle for you to answer, Mr, Pryor." 

"That does sound like a poser, doesn't it? Neverthe- 
less, I shall be very much surprised if it doesn't trans- 
pire that the circumstances attending his death were 
identical with those of a person who has had a sunstroke. 
What do the medical people say about it?" 

"Darn little. Strickland's daughter called in a Doctor 
Magnus, who seems to be the family physician. Strick- 
land was dead before he arrived and Magnus admitted 
that the cause of his death puzzled him. When I told 
Magnus about the threat that had been made against 
Strickland's life, he asked to be excused. You under- 
stand, don't you — he passed the buck to the coroner." 

"And what was the coroner's verdict?" 

"Hasn't arrived yet. Expect him any minute. And, 
say, Mr, Pryor, won't you please come over here and 
give this place the once over? How are you fixed for 
time now? 

"Still 'up to your ears in auto polish?" 

"I finished that assignment the day before yesterday. 
From now on my time is yours if you need me. My 
purpose in phoning just now was to inform Mr. Strick- 
land that I was ready to start working on his case. Too> 
bad I was too late to help him." 

"You're too late to help Strickland, all right. Poor 
devil ! He sure was scared. I've seen a lot of fright- 
ened people in my day but he was the worst of the 
whole bunch. Whoever did this certainly made a good 
job of punishing him." 

"Do you think Strickland deserved what he got?" 
Pryor asked. 

"I guess he had it coming to him, all right. I wasn't 
especially interested in Strickland's troubles before. The 
other jobs were all done outside my jurisdiction. But 
Strickland died in Los Angeles. If it wasn't for that 
letter it might have passed off as an accident or death 
from natural causes, but that message makes it look like 
murder. That means it's up to me to get busy. Frankly, 
I'm up against it. This scientific stuff gets my goat. I 
hate to admit it, but it looks like I'm licked even before 
I get started. That is unless you are willing to help me. 
What do you say, Mr. Pryor? 

"Will you give me a hand? Will you sit in on this 
game with me?" 

"Will I?" Pryor answered. "Just try to keep -me out 
of it." 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



23 



CHAPTER V 
Where and How It Happened 

HALF an hour later, Pryor's car was crawling up 
one of those steep, winding roads which carve 
fantastic patterns in hills north of Hollywood. 

Strickland's home was what a Los Angeles realtor 
would call a "hillside estate." So near perpendicular was 
the lot that even a mountain goat would have found it 
difficult to climb from one end of it to the other. The 
house itself was a charming example of the hillside type 
of architecture which is so popular in certain parts of 
California. It had a number of intriguing wings and ells 
and towers, with windows on five different levels. Be- 
ing familiar with dwellings of this character, Pryor 
knew that the living room would be on the top floor, 
level with the street, at the upper end of the lot. 

In response to Pryor's ring, the door was opened by 
a maid. Almost immediately he was greeted by Lieu- 
tenant Spangler. 

"Come in, Mr. Pryor," he called over the servant's 
shoulder. "I'm sure glad to see you." 

"Has the coroner arrived yet?" was Pryor's first 
question. 

"Yes. Got here just a few minutes ago. He's ex- 
amining the body now." 

"Good. How long do you think it will take him to 
bring in an opinion?" 

"That's hard to say. Maybe a few minutes — maybe 
a long time. It all depends on how things look to him. 
He may want to question the servants and the members 
of the family, in which case it may take several hours." 

"I see. And in the meantime, suppose you tell me 
how it happened." 

"Mrs. Strickland found the body at about nine-thirty 
this morning. She and her husband occupy separate 
chambers which are connected by a bathroom and are on 
a lower floor. She told me that Strickland has been 
drinking a great deal lately. I wasn't at all surprised 
to hear that, of course. He has always been a heavy 
drinker. On account of the extra worry he's been 
through lately, he has probably been hitting the booze 
harder than ever. According to Mrs. Strickland's story, 
she heard him enter the bathroom a few minutes before 
nine o'clock. She spoke to him through the door, tell- 
ing him she would wait for him in the breakfast room. 
Just before leaving her room, she heard him turn on the 
water of the shower. 

"When he failed to show up after a reasonable time, 
she returned to see what was detaining him. On enter- 
ing the bathroom she found her husband's body lying 
senseless on the floor. When she screamed for help, 
her daughter Clara and the butler, Jackson, heard her 
and came running down the stairs. They carried Strick- 
land into his room and laid him on the bed. Clara phoned 
for Doctor Magnus. I arrived on the scene just a few 
minutes after he did. By that time Strickland was 
dead. As I told you over the phone, Doctor Magnus 
passed the buck to the coroner." 

"How did it happen that you arrived at such an oppor- 
tune moment?" 

"I came in answer to a phone call from Strickland." 

"From Strickland?" Pryor exclaimed. "You mean 
you talked to him just a few minutes before he died?" 

"No I didn't talk to him. His butler, Jackson, phoned 



me and told me that Strickland wanted me to come here 
as quickly as I could." 

"What time was that?" 

"About nine o'clock." 

"You have questioned the butler, of course?" 

"Not yet." 

"Have you any idea why Strickland sent for you?" 

"No," Spangler replied. "Perhaps it had something 
to do with that note of warning he received last Fri- 
day." 

"That reminds me. What happened to the note? Did 
you follow my suggestion?" 

"I'll say I did — for all the good it did me. Your 
hunch was right, all right. Whoever sent that note was 
clever — altogether too damned clever." 

"By that I suppose you mean that the evidence has 
been destroyed." 

"I'll say it has. I tore off a corner of the sheet, as 
you suggested and soaked it in water. What do you sup- 
pose happened to it?" 

"Don't tell me that the paper dissolved in the water." 

"Not exactly. It turned black just as if it had been 
burned by a slow fire. When I took it out of the water 
it fell to pieces. How do you account for that?" 

"Don't ask me. I'm no chemist. What happened to 
the rest of the letter." 

"I kept it covered up like you told me to and hustled 
it to a photographer. He had to put it under a strong 
light to focus his camera on it. By the time he was 
ready to shoot it, the printing had faded and our evi- 
dence was gone." 

"You retained a copy of the wording of course." 

"No. I didn't. Since I expected to get a photograph 
of it I didn't think that was necessary." 

"It really doesn't matter. Fortunately you dictated 
it to me. In case you wish an exact copy of the wording 
of it, I can give it to you any time." 

"You mean you can remember the whole thing word ■ 
for word?" 

"Why certainly. That's easy. I have memorized 
passages ten times as long as that by hearing or reading 
them only once." 

"You'll have to show me," Spangler doubted. 

"Very well then. Here is the message as you read it 
to me over the phone," and Pryor repeated it verbatim. 

"That's what it said, all right," was Spangler's veri- 
fication. "You sure have a wonderful memory." 

"Nothing wonderful about it. Any one can train 
his memory. It's like learning to play a musical instru- 
ment. All it requires is practice. And by the way. I 
don't suppose you have had a chance to check up the 
statements made in that mysterious message." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I'm referring to the fourth sentence which said, 'You 
are being accorded a privilege which none of the others 
received — you are being warned in advance to prepare 
for death.' Do you know whether or not that is true?" 

"I don't get your drift yet." 

"Then here goes another snow storm : Have you been 
able to ascertain whether or not any of the other five 
victims of sunstroke were warned in advance of their 
impending fates?" 

"No. I haven't had time to check on that statement. 
Frankly, I don't see the use of doing anything of the 
sort. That's what the letter itself said. Why should I 
doubt the truth of it?" 



24 



AMAZING STORIES 



"I see no reason for doubting it myself. The sur- 
prising thing is that a man as clever as this criminal 
seems to be would commit such a serious blunder as to 
send a message to any of his victims. If it hadn't been 
for this letter, everybody would have thought that Strick- 
land died a natural death and there wouldn't have been 
any investigation. Why do you suppose this murderer 
of ours, supposedly a crafty, brainy man of science, 
made such a stupid error as that?" 

"That's easy enough to understand. Knowing that 
Strickland was the ringleader of the bunch, he pur- 
posely saved him until last. To make his vengeance 
complete, he planned to torture his victim before he 
killed him. Fear was his strongest weapon. By men- 
tioning the fate of the other five, he made Strickland be- 
lieve every word of that message. He probably figured 
that because of his success in carrying out his plot he 
could afford to take chances, especially when he pro- 
tected himself by making sure that the evidence would 
be destroyed before it could be used to catch him," 

"Your explanation seems plausible," Pryor agreed. 
"Nevertheless, that scrap of paper, devilishly ingenious 
as it is, will be the death warrant of the man who 
originated it." 

"That sounds like you feel pretty confident that you 
are going to catch the man who did this." 

"I not only feel confident — I feel almost certain that 
the murderer has already betrayed himself. I'll admit 
that it is the wildest kind of a hunch but I am also 
ready to name the culprit right now." 

"The hell you can! Who do you think did it?" 

"Jackson, the butler. If I were you I would detain 
him or at least keep a close watch on him." 

"Nonsense. Why you don't know a thing about him. 
What in the world put that idea into your head ?" 

"Wasn't it Jackson who answered the phone when I 
called this morning? Just before I talked to you?" 

"It probably was Jackson. What of it?" 

"While he was talking to me over the phone, he used 
an unusual word. It was 'egregiously'." 

"What's that got to do with it?" 

"Just this. A word like that doesn't belong in a but- 
ler's vocabulary. But it is the sort of word that might 
be used casually by a well-educated man — for instance 
by a scientist who had decided to commit a series of 
murders. Remember what I said about the other word 
'cogent'." 

"I'm afraid that evidence is mighty thin, Mr. Pryor. 
You can't expect me to arrest a man for murder just 
because he uses a hifaluting word." 

"Certainly not. I didn't mean for you to charge him 
with murder — at least not until we can collect some real 
evidence against him. My only reason for mentioning 
the matter now is so that you can prevent him from 
making what you call a 'getaway'." 

"Personally I think you are barking up the wrong 
tree. But even if you are right, you're a hell of a de- 
tective to spring anything like this before you even get 
started. Don't you know that a detective is supposed 
to keep everybody in suspense? He's supposed to hold 
back the name of the criminal until the very last thing, 
after everybody else has been suspected." 

"My dear lieutenant," Pryor smiled. "As I have told 
you repeatedly, I am not a detective. I am a business 
counsellor. As I analyze this case, the real problem is 
not who committed the crime." 



Spangler started to dispute this but Pryor went on, 
"Please don't misunderstand me. I realize, of course, 
that we must discover the identity of the murderer. But 
our first job is to find out why the crime was committed 
and how it was committed. Unless I am very much 
mistaken the answers to those two questions will also in- 
clude the name of the person who did it. Do I make 
myself clear?" 

"I suppose so. But " he hesitated and Pryor con- 
tinued : 

"I don't suppose you have any objection to my in- 
terrogating Jackson." 

"Certainly not. Interrogate him all you want to. I'll 
call him." 

He rang the bell. A few moments later a stout, red- 
faced man in butler's livery entered and greeted him with 
the conventional, "Did you ring, Sir?" 

"You are Jackson, I suppose," Spangler said. 

"No, Sir." 

"Then who in the devil are you?" 

"I'm Hathaway, Sir — Mr. Strickland's butler, if you 
please, Sir." 

"Strickland's butler? How many butlers are there in 
this house, anyway?" 

"Only one, Sir." 

"How about Jackson? Isn't he the butler?" 

"He was, Sir, but only temporarily." 

"Only temporarily? What do you mean by that?" 

"He relieved me for two weeks so that I could take a 
vacation. You see I haven't had a vacation for " 

"Never mind that. What happened to Jackson? Where 
is he now ?" 

"I don't know, Sir." 

"You don't know?" the detective roared. 

"No, Sir. You see he left shortly after I arrived to 
relieve him. He didn't say where he was going." 

CHAPTER VI 

The Chase 

WHEN Spangler heard the news of Jackson's de- 
parture, he swore eloquently, emphatically and 
excitedly. It didn't take him long to get over hts 
chagrin, however. 

"Looks as if your hunch was good, after all, Mr. 
Pryor," he said in a nervous tone. "I guess there's noth- 
ing for me to do now but try to catch that baby. I 
wonder how in the devil he got out anyway. I've had 
my eye on that door ever since I got here." 

"He left by way of the garage," Hathaway volun- 
teered. "There's a spiral stairway leading down to the 
level of the road below this one, Sir." 

"Did he have a car of his own?" 

"No, Sir. That is, I don't think so." 

"Do you suppose he could have helped himself to one 
of Strickland's cars?" 

"I don't think so. The chauffeur is usually there 
when he is not out with one of the cars." 

"O. K. Now you listen to me, Hathaway. I want 
you to stay here until I get back. I'll be gone just a 
minute." 

Spangler went out on the patio and called to the 
driver of the police car in which he had made the trip" 
from his office to the Strickland residence. 

"Drive down to the next street below this." he com- 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



25 



manded. "I'll meet you at the door of the garage be- 
longing to this house." 

Returning to the living room, he said, "Will you be 
good enough to stay here until I get back, Mr. Pryor? 
I don't expect to be gone long, Please see to it that 
nobody leaves by this door. I'll attend to guarding the 
other doors." Then to the butler : "Here, Hathaway, 
show me the way to the garage, will you?" 

For several minutes Pryor sat there and fidgeted. He 
was the kind of man who had to be eternally busy at 
something and this inactivity irked him. For want of 
something else to do he sat down at the grand piano and 
began to play with his foot on the soft pedal. So 
absorbed was he in trying to recall an elusive strain 
from "Liebestraum," that he did not hear the whirr of 
the elevator and the click of the door behind him. He 
was therefore somewhat startled when a rich contralto 
voice said almost in his ear, "Oh, I beg your pardon." 

He turned and found himself looking into a pair of 
unusually large, clear, blue eyes. There was a tragic 
mistiness about those eyes that inspired sympathy as 
well as admiration. The wavy blond hair, the rose petal 
complexion and the well-proportioned figure of the girl 
who stood before him, seemed to harmonize perfectly 
with those eyes. 

Pryor stammered an apology, "I hope you don't 
think I am intruding here. My name is Justin Pryor. 
Lieutenant Spangler asked me to assist him." 

"I understand. That's perfectly all right. I am Clara 
Strickland," 

"James Strickland's daughter, I presume." 

She nodded. 

"I'm very sorry this bereavement has come to you. 
Miss Strickland. I hope my playing has not disturbed 
you or your mother." 

"Not at all. You play beautifully — so beautifully that 
I couldn't resist coming to find out who was doing it." 

"I'm afraid I don't deserve that. But how about your 
mother?" 

"She is resting quietly now, thank you. Naturally this 
has been a great shock to both of us; but fortunately we 
have been trained to bear up under sorrow. Won't you 
go on with your playing?" 

"If you don't mind, I'd rather talk with you." Sud- 
denly realizing that this remark might be construed as 
undue familiarity, he hastened to add, "I would like to 
ask you a few questions." 

"Questions?" she echoed. "What sort of questions?" 

"I don't suppose you know that your father had a 
premonition that he was going to die and that he en- 
gaged me to help him." 

"No, Mr. Pryor, I did not know that. Father never 
did confide any of his affairs to me. He always tried to 
shield me from anything that might cause me concern. 
Nevertheless, I couldn't help noticing that father seemed 
to be worrying a great deal during the past few weeks." 

"He was worried," Pryor corroborated her. "He 
feared that someone was plotting to kill him." 

"Are you sure of that?" she asked anxiously. 

"Absolutely." 

"And did father tell you whom he suspected of plot- 
ting against him?" 

"He didn't have the slightest idea. That's why he 
engaged me. I'm supposed to be a sort of solver of 
puzzles, you know. Unfortunately I was not able to 
start on the case until this morning — after it was too late 



to help him, I cannot tell you how sorry I am now." 

"I appreciate your attitude, Mr, Pryor. But surely 
you don't believe that my father was — was " 

"Please don't say it," Pryor pleaded. "The question 
is still an open one. Possibly your father's fears were 
groundless and it was just a coincidence that he hap- 
pened to succumb this morning." 

"I hope so, for mother's sake." 

"I can readily appreciate your feelings," Pryor said, 
sympathetically. "But under the circumstances I'm 
afraid it is going to be necessary for us to make at least 
a superficial investigation. It may expedite matters if 
you will help me clear up one or two important matters. 
Do you mind?" 

"Not at all. I shall be glad to help you in any way 
I can." 

"Thank you. My first questions may sound a bit per- 
sonal but they are really of a routine nature — the kind 
of questions that are always asked in a case of this 
sort. From what you have already told me, I infer that 
your father and mother got along well together." 

"Oh, yes, indeed. Mother didn't approve of father's 
— er — business activities, of course, but she never voiced 
any objections to him personally." 

"I see. Your father seems to have been well-to-do. 
I presume all his property will go to you and your 
mother." 

"I suppose so. But father really owned very little. 
This home, our cars and most of our other property were 
bought with mother's money. She inherited a sub- 
stantial legacy from her grandfather." 

"I see. Is there anyone you know of who would de- 
rive any benefit from your father's death ?" 

"Absolutely no one. That is, no one whom I know 
about," she amended. 

"Did your father have any enemies? I mean outside 
of the persons who denounced him because of his sup- 
posed participation in the Whipple episode?" 

"Not that I know of." 

"Thank you. So much for routine queries. Now 
I am going to ask you a very pertinent question : What 
do you know about Jackson, the butler who took Hath- 
away's place ?" 

"I know very little about him, except that he seemed 
to be extremely anxious to please us." 

"Do you know how he happened to be selected to take 
Hatha way's place?" 

"Oh, yes. It was through Hathaway himself. He 
made a very reasonable request for a leave of absence 
so he could spend Christmas and the week following 
with his relatives. He recommended Jackson as a com- 
petent substitute." 

"I see. I presume that Jackson had access to your 
father's bedroom — I mean during times when Mr. 
Strickland was either absent or asleep?" 

"Why, of course. Father never would have a per- 
sonal valet. Jackson was frequently called upon to help 
him to undress when he was — when he wasn't feeling 
well." 

"You said a moment ago that your father has been 
worried. Under the circumstances it is perhaps only 
natural that he may have used liquor more than usual." 

"Yes. He drank a great deal. Possibly that had 
something to do with his untimely death." 

"Undoubtedly. And was it after he had been drink- 
ing that Jackson was called upon to help undress him?" 



26 



AMAZING STORIES 



"Yes. That happened nearly every night during the 
past week." 

"Did he do his drinking at home or somewhere else?" 

"At home. I don't believe he left the house during 
the past three days." 

"I see. About how old is Jackson?" 

"Close to fifty, I would judge." 

"Will you please describe him to me?" 

"He is of medium build — somewhat stocky, I would 
say that he weighs about one hundred and forty pounds 
and is about five feet six inches tall. He is quite active, 
although he is stoop-shouldered. His eyes are pale blue. 
For a man of his age his hair is unusually thick. It is 
light brown, streaked with grey. It extends down on his 
face for some distance." 

"Do you mean he has a beard ?" 

"I suppose you would call it that. His beard is the 
kind that English butlers are supposed .to* wear — side- 
boards, I believe they are called." 

"I see. Does Jackson wear glasses?" 

"No. His eyesight seems to be good without the aid 
of glasses." 

"Did you notice anything peculiar about him?" 

"In what way?" 

"Does he seem to be a typical servant? I mean in 
his speech and conduct." 

"His manners are excellent, if that's what you mean." 

"How about his vocabulary? I can easily tell that 
you are very well educated yourself. Hasn't it impressed 
you that Jackson's vocabulary is that of a scholar rather 
than a servant?" 

"Now that you mention it, I believe he does give the 
impression that he is a man of learning. But that's not 
at all surprising. During times like these there are lots 
of Oxford graduates who are glad to take positions as 
servants in order to make both ends meet." 

"Quite true. That's about all I need to know for the 
present. Thank you very much." 

"You are welcome, Mr. Pryor. But surely you do 
not suspect Jackson of doing anything wrong. If you 
do, I am certain you have made a mistake. He is such 
a sweet, kind-hearted man. I am sure he could never 
harm anyone." 

At that moment the front door opened and Spangler 
came rushing in. 

"Oh, excuse me," he said, when he saw the girl. 

"You have met Miss Strickland, have you not, Lieu- 
tenant Spangler ?" Pryor assumed. 

"Sure I have. How are you, Miss Strickland? Sorry 
we have to bother you like this." 

"That's quite all right," she answered graciously. 
"Mr, Pryor and I had an interesting conversation." 

"I took the liberty of asking Miss Strickland a few 
routine questions," Pryor explained. 

"Will you excuse me now?" the girl asked. "I think 
I'd better see how mother is." 

"Do so, by all means," Pryor urged her as he escorted 
her to the elevator. 



CHAPTER YI1 
The Coroner's Report 

HEN the rectangle of light on the translucent 
door had shrunk to a mere thread, Pryor turned 
and inquired, "Did you catch your man, lieu- 



W 



"No such luck," Spangler growled. "He made 
a clean getaway. I've got the dragnet out, but now that 
he is loose it's like fishing for one particular sardine in 
the whole Pacific Ocean. Did you find out anything 
from the girl?" 

"Nothing very significant. But what I did learn 
seemed to corroborate my theory." And he gave the de- 
tective an account of his interview with Miss Strickland. 

In the middle of the narrative the latch of the elevator 
clicked and out stepped a stout, bald-headed man who 
was carrying a small leather case. 

"Oh, hello, Doc !" Spangler greeted him. "Shake 
hands with Mr. Pryor." To the business counsellor he 
announced, "This is Doctor Sheldon, the coroner." 

"How do you do, Doctor Sheldon?" Pryor said. 
"Have you satisfied yourself as to the cause of Mr. 
Strickland's death." 

"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. It looks very much like a 
case of cerebral hemorrhage." 

"Do you mean that you think Mr. Strickland died a 
natural death — that he was not murdered?" 

"It doesn't look like murder to me. There are no 
marks on the body to indicate any act of violence." 

"Isn't it possible that his death was caused by poison?" 

"Possible but not probable. The only way to make 
sure of that is by analyzing the viscera and I have made 
arrangements for having that done at once. But I'm 
willing to gamble on it that the tests will all be negative." 

"No doubt they will," Pryor agreed. "But what 
about sunstroke? Wasn't the condition of the body the 
same as would have been the case if Mr. Strickland had 
died from sunstroke?' 

"Sunstroke? Say, are you trying to ridicule me?" 

"Of course not, doctor. I realize that it sounds like 
nonsense to suggest that a man could die of sunstroke in 
his bathroom on a January morning, but there is method 
in my seeming madness, nevertheless. Perhaps I ought 
to explain that Mr. Strickland received a threatening 
letter a few days ago and the author of the note hinted 
that he had caused the death of five other men, all of 
whom had died of sunstroke." 

"I'm afraid that's too deep for me. But I can as- 
sure you positively that Strickland's death was not 
caused by sunstroke, heat exhaustion, or anything like 
it." 

"And when do you expect to have the chemist's re- 
port ?" 

"Unless he runs into unexpected difficulties, it ought 
to be ready by tomorrow afternoon." 

"Thank you. And, by the way, doctor, I suppose you 
took a look at the place where Mr. Strickland's body 
was found?" 

"Sure I did. He was found in the bathroom. Noth- 
ing to arouse suspicion there, I can assure you." 

"How about the light in the bathroom? Didn't you 
notice anything peculiar about that?" 

"Nothing except that it was sl'M turned on. I switched 
it off myself." -- 

"And are you sure that the lamp bulb was not an un- 
usual one? For instance, isn't it possible that it was a 
special kind of lamp— the kind that emits ultra-violet 
rays?" 

"Of course not. The kind of light you have in mind 
would require a special fixture." 

"Why is that?" 

"Because it operates on a low voltage — about ten or 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



27 



twelve volts. The lamp has to have a transformer to 
cut down the line voltage." 

"And how about the globe itself? I've seen pictures 
of those therapeutic light globes. To me they looked 
just like any ordinary globe." 

"They may look the same in a picture but they are 
altogether different in reality. The kind of lamp you 
have in mind has both a filament and a carbon arc. It 
also has some mercury inside the globe. When the 
juice is turned on the mercury vaporizes and that's 
what produces the ultra-violet rays." 

"1 see. And you are sure that the globe in Mr. Strick- 
land's bathroom contained no mercury?" 

"I'm not exactly prepared to swear to it," the coroner 
hedged. "If there is any doubt about it we can easily 
find out right now. Suppose we have another look at 
that bathroom." 

Entering the elevator the three men descended to the 
floor on which Strickland's room was located. Spangler, 
who was the tallest of the trio, stood on the edge of 
the bathtub and was just able to reach the globe. He un- 
screwed it and handed it to Doctor Sheldon. 

"You see !" the coroner cried triumphantly, "It is an 
ordinary light globe — just as I said it was." He handed 
the lamp to Pryor, who examined it carefully and had to 
admit that there was nothing unusual about it. Never- 
theless, while the other two were leaving the bathroom, 
Pryor slipped the bulb into his coat pocket. 

"Are there any other matters you would like to have 
cleared up?" Sheldon asked as they reentered the liv- 
ing room. ' 

"Not that I can think of right now. Thank you 
very much for the help you have already given me." 

When the coroner had left, Spangler remarked, "This 
electric light business is all Greek to me. What did 
you have in mind when you asked Doc about the globe 
in the bathroom?" 

"Only this : You doubtless know that direct sunlight 
contains certain rays that are not included in ordinary 
artificial light. Among these are included the ultra- 
violet rays. They are supposed to have powerful actinic 
effects. For instance, there is reason to believe that 
sunburn of the human skin is caused by the ultra-violet 
radiations." 

"What's that got to do with Strickland's death?" 

"Just one of those hunches of mine, that's all. It 
occurred to me that, since the death of the other five 
men was associated with exposure to direct sunlight, 
Strickland's death might have been caused by some sub- 
stitute for sunlight, as for instance, one of those ultra- 
violet ray lamps that Doctor Sheldon told us about." 

I SEE what you're driving at now. But I'm afraid 
you're barking up the wrong tree this time." 

"Maybe so," Pryor laughed good naturedly. "Some- 
times we have to bark up a lot of trees before we find 
the one in which our quarry is hiding." 

"True enough. And where do we start barking now?" 

"My suggestion is that we find out all we can about 
the circumstances surrounding the death of those other 
five men." 

"I should worry about them," the detective objected. 
"You understand, don't you, that I'm not interested in 
any murders that were committed outside my territory. 
The only one I am concerned about is Strickland, I'm 
directly and definitely responsible for investigating his 



death. But I have nothing to do with the other five." 

"That I realize fully, lieutenant; but don't you un- 
derstand that unless we are familiar with what hap- 
pened to the others we may overlook some important 
point in connection with Strickland's murder? Further- 
more, if we can prove that the same man was associated 
with each of the other five prior to their deaths, we will 
be able to weave a net of evidence around him from 
which even the cleverest of criminals could not escape." 

"Now I get you. What do you want me to do?" 

"Suppose you communicate with the authorities in 
the places where each of these five men died. No doubt 
you have connections that will enable you to obtain the 
desired information, including a full account of the cir- 
cumstances surrounding their deaths. If it is possible. 
I think we should also try to obtain descriptions of any 
new friends, servants, or associates, whom these men 
came in contact with immediately prior to the dates when 
they had their fatal attacks of sunstroke. Perhaps it 
might be a good idea to ascertain whether or not the 
victims had anything to do with a man answering Jack- 
son's description. And, by the way, how about a picture 
of our suspect? Do you suppose we could get hold of 
a good likeness of him?" 

"I'm afraid not. Folks like the Stricklands are not in 
the habit of exchanging portraits with their butlers, 
and we don't know a thing about Jackson's family." 

"Perhaps Hathaway knows something about him," 
Pryor suggested. 

"That's a good hunch. Let's find out." Spangler rang 
and a few minutes later, Hathaway made his appear- 
ance. 

"What do you know about this man Jackson?" the de- 
tective demanded. 

"Very little, Sir. You see I met him by accident." 

"You met him by accident?" Spangler roared. "What 
do you mean by that?" 

"It happened about three weeks ago, Sir — on one of 
my evenings off. I decided to attend a cinema on Hol- 
lywood Boulevard, The play was very interesting, Sir. 
It was about a gentleman who masqueraded as a butler. 
The name of it was " 

"Never mind the name of the show," Spangler in- 
terrupted him. "What I want to know is, how did you 
meet ?" 

"There was a line waiting for the nine o'clock show. 
The man standing next to me made a chance remark 
and we started a conversation. Like myself, he was 
alone. He seemed to be such an agreeable chap that I 
suggested that we sit together during the show. ' After 
the show, he invited me to have a cup of coffee and a 
sandwich with him. He told me that he was a butler 
and seemed greatly surprised when I informed him that 
my occupation was the same as his. It was then that he 
made the proposal to me." 

"What proposal?" Spangler wanted to know. 

"The proposal to take my place, so that I could go on 
a vacation over New Year's. He told me that he had 
not been employed for some time but that he had saved 
enough money so he had no reason to worry. On the 
other hand he seemed to be afraid that he would get out 
of practice if he didn't keep his hand in. For that 
reason he was willing to do my work without compen- 
sation." 

"So that's how it happened, is it?" the detective in- 
terposed. "Let me get this straight : You meet this 



28 



AMAZING STORIES 



man at a picture show. He buys you a sandwich and 
proposes to you to let him take your place. He agrees 
lo work for nothing, so you can take a vacation with 
full pay — is that correct?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

"And without knowing anything more about this man 
you recommended him to your employers and permitted 
him to be brought into their home as a trusted servant?" 

"But Mrs. Strickland was perfectly satisfied with the 
arrangement, Sir. Jackson came here three days before 
I left and worked with me so that he was thoroughly 
familiar with my duties." 

"I'm not thinking about how he made good on the 
job. What seems queer to me is that you and Mrs. 
Strickland should place so much confidence in a perfect 
stranger." 

"It is true that in one sense he was a stranger to me," 
Hathaway tried to defend himself. "But he was such a 
nice honest -looking man that I had no hesitation about 
recommending him. I hope he hasn't stolen anything." 

"I guess he didn't steal anything," Spangler growled. 
"But he may have done something a lot worse." 

"What do you mean by that, if you please, Sir?" 

"Never mind what I mean. What does this man 
Jackson look like?" 

Hathaway's description of the substitute butler coin- 
cided with the one which Miss Strickland had given 
Pryor except that the servant estimated Jackson's age 
to be fifty-five and his weight to be one hundred and 
fifty pounds. He referred to Jackson's hair as "sandy" 
and his eyes as "dark blue." 

Jotting the details down in his notebook, Spangler 
said, "I don't suppose there is any use of my asking you 
if you know where he came from or where his folks 
live." 

"I'm afraid not, Sir. He never mentioned those mat- 
ters to me. In fact he very seldom spoke about himself." 

"I can easily understand that," Spangler said in a 
tone intended to be sarcastic. "That will be all." 

When the butler had left the room, Pryor remarked, 
"By the way, there's one more angle of this case that 
ought to be worth investigating and that is the ante- 
cedents of the Whipples. Assuming that Jackson, or 
someone else, shouldered the task, not to mention the 
serious risk, of avenging the death of Ruth Whipple and 
her father it is only reasonable to assume that he must 
have had a closer interest than merely the desire to see 
justice done. Do you suppose you could find out if the 
Whipples had a relative or close friend who is now liv- 
ing in California?" 

"I'll see what I can do," Spangler promised. "Maybe 
a letter to the police in Whipples' home town will sup- 
ply the desired information." 

CHAPTER VIII 

Poisonous Light 

FROM the Strickland home Pryor drove to the 
Barlow Medical Library on North Broadway. In 
response to Pryor's request for information con- 
cerning sunstroke, the librarian, who was a woman, 
asked, "Are you a doctor?" 
Pryor answered in the negative. 

"I'm sorry," she said, "but this library is exclusively 
for the use of doctors." 



Nevertheless, thanks to training as an advertising man, 
Pryor finally "sold her the idea" of permitting him to 
use some of the books in the library. 

He learned that the medical term for what is com- 
monly known as sunstroke is "heat exhaustion." Those 
suffering from heat exhaustion are usually found un- 
conscious with temperatures well above 105 degrees, one 
of the books informed him. 

For an hour or so he ploughed through a tangled 
wilderness of tecbnical verbiage which seemed to draw 
him further and further from his goal. Then suddenly 
he burst into a clearing in the form of this significant 
sentence: "Heat exhaustion is sometimes diagnosed as 
cerebral hemorrhage or apoplexy." 

Thanking the librarian profusely, he hurried out of 
the building and pointed the radiator cap of his car 
toward the Los Angeles Public Library. Browsing 
around among the books on physics and chemistry did 
not yield a single blade of pertinent information. Then 
he tried the Reader's Handbook and was rewarded by 
discovering a significant article in the 1921 volume of 
the Journal of the Chemical Society. 

It was a report presented to the British Association 
for the Advancement of Science, describing a series of 
experiments which had been performed by Professor 
E. C. C. Baly and I. M. Heilbrom. By passing a cur- 
rent of carbon dioxide through water exposed to ultra- 
violet light, these two scientists had produced formal- 
dehyde. The same effect was also obtained with ordinary 
light when malachite green was used as a catalyzer. 

This would have meant little to an ordinary layman, 
but Pryor knew enough about chemistry to realize that 
this experiment represented the first step toward the 
fulfilment of the scientist's fondest dreams — that of 
creating living beings from inorganic materials. Man 
had at last succeeded in performing a creative process 
which had previously been regarded as a monopoly of 
nature. He had constructed an organic substance out of 
materials that were exclusively inorganic. Any green 
leaf can accomplish this feat of magic, but hitherto it 
had baffled human ingenuity. 

Formaldehyde has the simplest possible formula for 
a carbohydrate. It is CH 2 0. Plant physiologists be- 
lieve that when a growing leaf is exposed to the sunlight 
the carbon dioxide gas (CO.,) in the air is reduced to 
carbon monoxide (CO), which, uniting with the hydro- 
gen of the water (H,0) in the cell, forms formaldehyde 
(CH 2 0). In the leaf of the plant this molecule multi- 
plies itself by six and turns into a sweet, solid glucose 
(C ( ,H,„O b ) or, with the loss of water, into starch 
(C H 10 ? ). 

Reflecting on the experiments of Baly and Heilbrom, 
a scientist would naturally ask, "If man can artificially 
build an organic compound, using only inorganic mate- 
rials, what is to prevent him from creating life itself 
in a test-tube?" 

But that wasn't the question that popped into Pryor's 
mind. After all he was not a professional chemist, he 
was a solver of puzzles. To him the most significant 
consideration was this: Using innocuous materials and 
energy that abound everywhere, namely water, carbon 
dioxide and LIGHT, two scientists had produced an 
acrid smelling gas, called formaldehyde and known to be 
a deadly POISON. 

Like a bloodhound that has just caught a fresh scent, 
Pryor searched eagerly for more information concern- 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



29 



ing the use of light in the artificial production of formal- 
dehyde and similar compounds. In a book called "Bio- 
chemistry" by Dr. Benjamin Moore, he found this sig- 
nificant passage : "Such simple substances as formalde- 
hyde, formic acid, oxalic acid and hydrogen peroxide are 
all poisonous to the highly organized and labile colloids 
of the bioplasm, and probably on account of that prop- 
erty which makes them essential in the first stages of 
evolution — namely their high reactivity and the ease with 
which they take part in additional reactions of organic 
substances. For this reason they must undergo change 
in any living cell white still at high dilution, or else they 
so interlock into the labile system of organic colloids 
within the cell as to clog all metabolic change. Hence 
it is that energy of light, which is essential to healthy 
growth and the upbuilding of organic material from in- 
organic, supplied in a wrong fashion, may reverse these 
delicate processes, and cause death and degeneration of 
living substances." 

Though Pryor had the feeling that he was "getting 
warm," he knew that he had not yet found the key that 
would unlock the door of his puzzle-case. So he con- 
tinued his search. Late in the afternoon he stumbled 
across a book that was so small and insignificant look- 
ing that it might easily have escaped his notice. This 
gave him exactly what he had been hunting for — the 
name of a substance which was not a poison but which, 
when introduced into the human system in the presence 
of sunlight or its equivalent, would produce physiological 
effects similar to those caused by sunstroke. 

This treatise told of experiments made by Dr. Fritz 
Schanz of Germany, who had observed some remark- 
able transformations effected by haemato-prophyrin, an 
iron-free disintegration product of the blood pigment, 
haemoglobin. 

"In a dilution of one to eighty thousand it is capable 
of killing cultures of paramaecia in the light of a cloudy 
winter day." Dr. Schanz was quoted as saying: "It is 
also capable, in the presence of light, of dissolving the 
red blood corpuscles of the most various kinds of ani- 
mals. 

"In the dark, however, this substance has no effect," 
according to the article. "It is active only in the pres- 
ence of light. The reason for this is not, as might be 
supposed, that light converts the haemato-porphyrin into 
a poison. On the contrary, solutions of this substance 
can be exposed to the light for a long period without be- 
coming a bit more poisonous than when kept in the dark. 

"By making use of this substance the warm blooded 
animals can be rendered sensitive to light in the highest 
degree. If small quantities of it are injected into white 
mice the animals show no signs of injury as long as they 
are not exposed to the light. But Hausmann found that 
even the diffused daylight of an early spring day in 
Vienna was sufficient to produce death in mice which 
had previously been injected with a solution of this sub- 
stance. Neither the haemato-porphyrin alone nor the 
light alone, even in great intensity, is capable of injuring 
the animals. The injury is caused by the combined ef- 
fects of the two. The acutest form of this malady pro- 
duces a deep narcosis in the animal within a few min- 
utes, after which death rapidly ensues. Hausmann gave 
this condition the name of 'lightstroke' and he is of the 
opinion that a great many cases of sunstroke are con- 
nected with similar processes of scnsiHvhation." 

Feeling well repaid for his afternoon of study, Pryor 



returned to his home and spent a pleasant evening solving 
cross-word puzzles. 

CHAPTER IX 

More Light On the Subject 

AT nine o'clock the following morning, Pryor in- 
structed his secretary to call up the local plant 
of a world-famous manufacturer of electrical 
equipment. 

"I understand that you have an electric lamp that pro- 
duces ultra-violet rays," he began the telephone conver- 
sation. 

"We have several such devices," the man at the other 
end of the line told him. 

"Is it true that all lamps of this sort require special 
equipment?" 

"AH those intended for human beings do. They oper- 
ate on low voltage, you understand. But the equipment 
we sell includes a transformer. It is built right into 
the unit. You can plug it into any outlet in your home." 

"I see. But how about the globes themselves ? Can 
they be screwed into an ordinary light socket?" 

"Hardly. You wouldn't get the right voltage if you 
did that." 

"The bulbs used with this equipment look different 
from ordinary light globes, do they not?" . 

"Yes, indeed. They are altogether different." 

"I see. And isn't there such a thing as a lamp that 
can be screwed into an ordinary light socket that will 
give off ultra violet rays?" 

"There is such, a thing, but we don't recommend them 
for human beings. It is a new product of ours designed 
especially for use in poultry raising. We call them CX 
lamps." 

"How do they differ from ordinary light bulbs — in ap- 
pearance I mean." 

"Except for the glass, which is made of quartz, the 
CX lamps are very much like our regular light globes — > 
in fact it would be impossible to tell them apart just 
by looking at them." 

"Couldn't an expert tell them apart?" 

"Not without testing the light." 

"And how is that done, please?" 

"By means of an ultra-violet ray indicator." 

"Is there any place where I could see one of these 
lamps and also one of those ultra-violet ray indicators?" 

"Certainly. If you will go to our store on East Sec- 
ond Street, a salesman there will be glad to show them to 
you." 

Acting on this suggestion, Pryor visited the store on 
East Second Street. He took with him the light bulb 
which he had filched from Strickland's bathroom. An 
accommodating salesman showed him one of the CX 
lamps. It looked exactly like an incandescent light globe 
such as are used for house lighting. In response to 
Pryor's query regarding the ultra-violet ray indicator, the 
salesman showed him a small object which resembled 
a jeweler's magnifying glass, such as a watchmaker 
inserts in his eye-socket when he examines the internal 
workings of a watch. It was about two and one-half 
inches long. At one end was a glass eyepiece about 
three-sixteenths of an inch in diameter. The opposite 
end was partly covered by a strip of purple colored glass. 

Following the salesman's instructions, Pryor held the 
indicator up to his eye and pointed it at several different 



30 



AMAZING STORIES 



sources of light, including the front window of the store 
and a light globe in a ceiling fixture which was turned on. 

"I don't see anything unusual," he announced. 

"You're not supposed to see anything unusual unless 
ultra-violet rays come through the indicator." 

"But daylight includes ultra-violet rays, doesn't it?" 

"Not after it passes through that window. Ordinary 
glass cuts off the ultra-violet rays. Only quartz glass 
will permit them to pass through. This globe is made of 
quartz glass. I'll screw it into this socket and turn on 
the juice. Now take a look." 

Pryor squinted through the indicator and was sur- 
prised to see the letters U. V. R. appear as if by magic. 

"Now I see something," he declared. "It looks like 
the letters U. V. R." 

"That's what you are supposed to see when the light 
you are looking at contains ultra-violet rays," the sales- 
man informed him. 

"Is there any other way of distinguishing between 
these CX lamps and ordinary electric bulbs?" 

"Not that I know of." 

"Thank you. And now I wonder if you will permit 
me to test this lamp which I brought with me." 

"Why certainly." The man inserted the lamp from 
Strickland's home in a socket and switched on the cur- 
rent. 

When Pryor directed the violet ray indicator on it, 
the letters U. V. R. showed up as before. 

"Does that prove positively that this lamp is one of 
your CX lamps?" Pryor asked. 

"Not necessarily. All it proves is that the light given 
by the lamp contains ultra-violet rays. However, I 
think it is reasonably certain that this is one of our 
lamps. I don't know of any other light globes of this 
sort that will give an ultra-violet ray." 

"You keep a record of all your sales of these lamps, 
do you not?" 

"Oh, yes, indeed. You see this lamp is still in an ex- 
perimental stage. We ask all those who buy them to let 
us know what results they get from using the lamps." 

"I see. Is there any way you could trace the pur- 
chaser of this particular lamp?" 

"Hardly. The lamps are not numbered. They all 
look alike. I don't see how we could be expected to 
identify any individual one of them." 

"Could a lamp like this be purchased anywhere else 
in Los Angeles except here?" 

"Not that I know of." 

"I wonder if you could tell me whether you have sold 
one of these CX lamps to a man named Jackson." 

"Our records would probably answer that question. 
But your request is rather an unusual one. Would you 
mind telling me your reason for wanting to know this." 

"Why yes, of course. I'm a special investigator for 
the Los Angeles homicide squad. I have reason to be- 
lieve that this light had something to do with the death of 
a man. Do you understand ?" 

"Oh, yes. In that case we shall be glad to cooperate 
with you." 

But the name Jackson did not appear in the list -of 
persons who had purchased CX lamps. Neither could 
any of the salesmen remember serving a customer an- 
swering Jackson's description. 

"Have any of these lamps been purchased by the 
science departments of universities?" Pryor asked. 

"Practically all the universities in Southern California 



have been supplied with one or more CX lamps apiece," 
the salesman replied. "We furnished them free to those 
who agreed to experiment with them and give us re- 
ports of the results." 

"They went to the chemistry departments, I suppose." 
"In a few cases. Most of them were sent to the heads 
of the physics departments." 

CHAPTER X 

What the Autopsy Showed 

REALIZING that he was only a few blocks away 
from Spangler's office, Pryor left his car in a 
parking station and walked to police head- 
quarters. He was fortunate enough to find the detective 
in. 

"Oh, hello, Mr. Pryor," Spangler greeted him. "What 
do you know?" Without waiting for an answer to this 
trite and banal question he went on, "Hope you haven't 
wasted any time on that Strickland case." 

"I have been working on it ever since I saw you last," 
Pryor told him. "But I haven't wasted my time by any 
means. On the contrary, I feel that I have made very 
satisfactory progress toward the solution of the mys- 
tery." 

"Yes. But in this case there doesn't happen to be 
any mystery." 

"What do you mean ?" 

"I just got the coroner's report. He still sticks to his 
original verdict. Strickland died of cerebral hemor- 
rhage. There isn't any doubt about that, according to 
Doctor Sheldon. Not the slightest trace of poison was 
found in the viscera." 

"I didn't expect there would be. Nevertheless I have 
strong reasons for believing that Strickland's death was 
caused by the action of ultra-violet light on a solution 
which had been previously injected into his blood by a 
person with murderous intent." 

"What in the world put that idea into your head?" 

Pryor told him what he had learned about haemato- 
porphyrin and about the nature of the lamp which had 
been removed from Strickland's bathroom. 

"That's all very interesting," Spangler condescended, 
"But I don't see that it proves anything about Strick- 
land's death." 

"What more proof do you want?" Pryor .snapped. 
"How else would you account for the presence of a very 
unusual kind of ultra-violet ray lamp in Strickland's 
home ?" 

"It might have gotten mixed up with the regular lamps 
at the factory. You said yourself that it looks like an 
ordinary light bulb." 

"That's true, but it is hardly conceivable that a con- 
cern like the American Electric Company could permit 
a special, experimental lamp such as this one to become 
mixed with ordinary light globes." 

"All right. Suppose we say that the lamp must have 
been put there on purpose. What of it?" 

"It is logical that whoever put it there intended that 
it should produce a lethal effect on Strickland, after a 
solution of haemato-porphyrin had been injected into 
his blood." 

"And you think Jackson did that?" 

"I certainly do." 

"But how could a butler get away with anything like 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



3X 



that? Strickland certainly would not permit him to in- spending any more of the taxpayers' money on what 

ject a drug into his blood." looks like a wild goose chase. So I guess we may as 

"Not if he knew about it, of course. Jackson prob- well drop the case right now." 

ably did it while Strickland was heavily intoxicated. He "But surely, Lieutenant, you are not going to quit 

has had plenty of opportunities to do that." now," Pryor pleaded. "It seems to me that, in spite of 

"And do you think he used the same system on Tor- the short time we have been working on the case we have 

res, Muller and the other three?" already made remarkable progress." 

"With variations. All five of them were chronic "Oh, you don't need to worry about your money, Mr. 

drinkers. Jackson could easily have become acquainted Pryor. Just figure out what your expenses and charges 

with them by buying drinks for them. It would not have have been to date and I'll see to it that a voucher is sent 

been difficult for a man of his skill to inject the drug to you." 

into their arms while they were drunk and unconscious, "I'm not thinking of my own remuneration," Pryor 

In their cases, of course, it was not necessary to use said in an injured tone. "Unless I succeed in solving 

ultra-violet ray lamps. They all died while they were this problem, I don't expect to receive a penny. And, 

bathing out of doors during the summer months." whatever you decide to do on your own account, I intend 

"That's right. But, as I said before, Strickland's to keep everlastingly at it until the solution is corn- 
death is the only one I need to worry about. If Jack- pleted." 

son injected a drug into his blood he must have left the "If you do that I'm afraid it will have to be at your 

mark of the hypodermic syringe somewhere on his body, own expense." 

It ought to be easy enough to get a check on that. Let "Very well, then. I anil go ahead at my own ex- 

nie see if I can get Doctor Sheldon on the phone." pense. Concerning the work I have already done, I 

When the girl at the switchboard had made the de- would like to make a bargain with you. Yesterday 
sired connection Spangler picked up the telephone and morning I asked you to communicate with the authori- 
said, "Hello, Doc. About that Strickland case : Did ties in Long Beach, San Diego, San Francisco, Texas 
you notice any marks on his arms or legs that looked like and Iowa in an endeavor to obtain certain important in- 
they might have been made by a hypodermic needle?" formation. I presume that you, with your usual effi- 
ciency have taken care of all these matters." 

"Why didn't you tell me about that before?" "Sure I have. But I was just about to send out a 
flock of wires canceling my previous requests." 

"Was there more than one mark?" "You haven't sent them yet, I hope." 
"There hasn't been time." 

"Then that doesn't look like he was using dope regu- "Then will you do me this favor: Let matters rest 
larly, does it?" until you receive answers to your original wires. When 
they come in, please turn them over to me. Will you 

"Thanks, doc. So long." do that?" 

Before Spangler had time to hang up the receiver, "Sure I will. But I'm afraid they won't help you any. 

Pryor fired an eager question at him: "What did Doctor I've already received an answer from San Diego. Here 

Sheldon say? There was only one needle mark on his it is: 

body, wasn't there?" He handed a telegram to Pryor, who read the follow- 

"Yes. It was on his upper left arm, right in the mid- ing message: 
die of his vaccination mark. Sheldon said he might 

easily have overlooked it because of its location." "HAVE QUESTIONED SEVERAL RELATIVES 

"What did he say when you asked him why he had not AND FRIENDS OF TORREZ AND MARVIDO 

mentioned it to you before?" STOP NOBODY REMEMBERS SEEING THEM 

"He said he didn't think it was important since the WITH MAN ANSWERING DESCRIPTION OF 

chemist had made thorough tests for morphine and other JACKSON STOP CORONER STICKS TO ORIGI- 

poisonous drugs and had obtained negative results for NAL VERDICT." 
all of them." 

"Naturally. Haemato-porphyrin itself is not a poison. As Pryor handed back the yellow slip, Spangler said 

Even if it was, it is doubtful if the chemist who made triumphantly, "You see? Doesn't that prove that you 

the tests would know how to detect its presence. I are on the wrong track?" 

imagine its use is not very well known except by those "It doesn't prove anything," Pryor insisted, "except 

who specialize in biochemistry. Under the circnm- that most people are woefully lacking in powers of ob- 

stances, doesn't it seem possible that my theory is cor- servation." 

rect?" "And do you still want me to hold back those can- 

"Maybe it is," the detective conceded. "But the whole cellation wires?" 

idea sounds awful fishy to me. To be frank with you, "If you please." 

I'd rather accept the coroner's verdict that he died of "And how about the dragnet I threw out to catch 

cerebral hemorrhage." Then, with a grin, he added, "It Jackson? Want me to keep that working?" 

will make things a lot easier for me." "It can do no harm. But to be frank with you, 

"I don't think you really mean that, Lieutenant," Lieutenant, I haven't much confidence in the efficiency 

Pryor smiled. "Nobody who knows you well would ever of what you facetiously call your dragnet." 

accuse you of shirking your duty." Spangler laughed good naturedly, "Guess you scored 

"There are plenty of guys who would like to have £ a clean hit on that one, Mr. Pryor. Is there anything 

chance to accuse me of doing that little thing," Spangler else I can do to help?" 

remarked. "But in this case, I don't feel justified in "No thank you. But perhaps I ought to tell you this: 



32 



AMAZING STORIES 



Now that I am working on my own I shall not feel 
obligated to turn the murderer over to the authorities 
unless I consider it the right thing to do." 

"I think I can safely leave that to you," Spangler con- 
sented. "And incidentally, I'll have to hand it to you for 
guts — even though I think you are a bum business man." 

"What makes you say that?" 

"Because you are wasting your time and spending 
your own dough without any chance of gaining profit." 

"You mean financial profit, of course. But you must 
remember that there are other kinds of rewards besides 
financial ones. To me the thrill I derive from working 
out a complicated puzzle or solving a problem that looks 
insoluble is worth a great deal more than money. I 
have never yet failed to complete successfully any of the 
tasks I have undertaken. I rap on wood when I say this, 
but I don't intend that the Strickland case shall mar an 
otherwise unblemished record." 

"I suppose you have planned what you are going to 
do next." 

"Oh, yes. My plans are well formulated. Fortunate- 
ly my list of suspects is bound to be small." 

"Your list of suspects?" Spangler questioned. "I 
thought you had already decided that there was only 
one suspect." 

"You mean, I presume, the man who called himself 
Jackson," Pryor rejoined. "I still believe that he is the 
man I am seeking. But his name isn't Jackson now. 
Furthermore, I doubt very much if the descriptions Miss 
Strickland and Flathaway gave us will help except in 
a very general way." 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"I mean that while he was masquerading he probably 
changed his appearance as well as his name. If we had 
several photographs of him we might be able to recognize 
him in spite of these changes, but I'm afraid that the 
verbal descriptions will be useful only as a means of 
eliminating those who differ from him radically in such 
fundamental matters as height, weight and color of 
eyes." 

"Then how do you expect to identify him when you 
run into him ?" 

"I will induce him to talk. A murderer will always 
betray himself when he talks unguardedly about events 
connected with his crimes !" 

"But where are you going to look for him?" 

"Among the men who possess the scientific training 
requisite for committing those six murders. 

"Then you think it was done by a scientist, do you?" 

"There is no doubt of it in my mind." 

"Isn't it possible that an ordinary crook could be a 
scientist too— at least enough of a scientist to pull a job 
like this, and get away with it?" 

"Hardly. The criminal mind and the scientific mind 
are as far apart as the stars. To be a real scientist a 
man must have a fervent passion for truth — and that, 
by the way, is one of the clearest indications of morality. 
The true scientist is glad to sacrifice his own material 
benefit, his pleasures — his very life if need be — for 
the sake of adding one page, or even a single sentence, 
to the world's store of knowledge. 

"A confirmed criminal, on the other hand, has no re- 
gard for the truth. He is selfish and self-seeking. He 
is unwilling to make sacrifices or to work hard. He 
follows the path of crime because he thinks it is the 
easiest way. Furthermore, the pursuit of science re- 



quires more than average intelligence; and I can't con- 
ceive of a really intelligent person becoming a profes- 
sional criminal." 

"That sounds swell," Spangler interposed. "But it 
seems to me you are kind of inconsistent. A while ago 
you said you were sure that six murders were committed 
by a scientist and now you as much as say that no scien- 
tist could possibly become a criminal." 

" 'Professional criminal' is the term I used," Pryor 
corrected him. "It is my belief that the murderer in this 
case had never before committed a crime and he will 
probably never commit another one. He must have had 
some personal interest in the Whipple girl — an interest 
that was strong enough to induce him to avenge her 
after what he considered a miscarriage of justice." 

"Maybe you're right," Spangler conceded. "Any- 
way, I wish you the best of luck." 

"Thanks, Lieutenant," said Pryor as he reached for 
his hat. "Perhaps I shall need all the luck you can wish 
me." 

CHAPTER XI 

A Significant Experiment 

PRYOR'S next visit was to the chemistry labor- 
atories of a well known California university. 
After a great deal of confused wandering up and 
down the halls of the science building, he finally located 
an instructor and asked him where he could obtain some 
information concerning biochemistry. He w r as told that 
all the chemistry professors would be busy with their 
classes until three o'clock and was advised to return then. 
This Pryor decided to do. In the interim he went to 
the University Library and became so absorbed in a book 
on cryptograms that it was nearly four before he came 
to himself and returned to the science building, where he 
finally located Doctor Otn> Bauer, professor of organic 
chemistry. 

"I am looking for information concerning the effect 
of ultra-violet light on chemical compounds," Pryor 
began. 

"Just what do you desire to know ?" Professor Bauer 
asked. 

"I'm looking for a very unusual substance. Intro- 
duced into the blood stream of an animal this drug makes 
it extremely sensitive to light. The compound itself is 
not poisonous, you understand. Neither does it become 
poisonous when exposed to the sunlight. But if a dilute 
solution of the material is injected into the blood of an 
animal, the creature will die as soon as it is exposed to 
the sunlight or to ultra-violet rays produced artificially. 
Do you know of any such substance ?" 

"Your question is a very singular one," the professor 
stalled. "I wouldn't want to answer it positively with- 
out time for reflection. Offhand, however, I don't seem 
to recollect ever hearing of a chemical compound such as 
you describe." 

"Perhaps the name of this substance will help," Pryor 
prompted. "It is called haemato-porphyrin." 

"I'm sorry but even the name is not familiar to me," 
Bauer admitted. "It must be a very unusual reagent. 
From the sound of it, I would infer that it has something 
to do with blood. Let's see if I can find it in the chem- 
ical dictionary." 

He picked up a large volume and thumbed through it. 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



33 



"Here it is," he cried. "Haemato-porphyrin : An iron- 
free disintegration product of haemoglobin." 

"Is that all the book say£ about it?" 

"That is all. There is nothing here about its effect oa 
animals cr of its relation to ultra-violet rays." 

"And you say there is nothing that would produce an 
effect Juch as I have described?" 

"Nothing that I know of. You understand, of course, 
that the chemistry of the blood is a very specialized 
study. That doesn't happen to be one of my specialties." 

"Do you know of anyone who is a specialist in this 
branch of chemistry?" 

"Why, yes. I know of at least a score." 

"Are any of them living in California?" 

"Several of them. Let me see, there is Winthrop and 
Cummings and—" 

"Just a moment, professor," Pryor interrupted him. 
"Would you mind dictating the names to me slowly so 
I can take them down. I'd also appreciate it if you will 
tell me where I can find these men." 

When the list was completed, it contained eight names. 

By means of a simple question addressed to Professor 
Bauer, Pryor eliminated two names, thus reducing the 
number to six. The question was, "Do you know 
whether any of these men are unusually tall?" 

"I haven't met all of them personally," the professor 
informed him. "But I do know that Cummings is over 
six feet tall and Upton must be five feet ten inches." 

Since Jackson had been described as short, and stocky, 
Pryor felt safe in eliminating Cummings and Upton 
from his tentative list of suspects. By phoning to the 
various universities with which these men were con- 
nected he was able to remove two more from the list. 
They were names of men who had brown eyes. This 
left four men, all of whom' were specialists in biochem- 
istry and all of whom were of about the same general 
appearance as Jackson. 

The first of the quartette whom Pryor interviewed 
was Professor William E. Woodbury. He certainly did 
not look like a man who could commit murder. His jolly, 
clear-skinned face seemed to say emphatically and con- 
vincingly, "I am honest. You can trust me implicitly." 
In his pale blue eyes, Pryor, a keen student of human 
physiognomy could read nothing but uprightness and 
wholesome good humor. Though his weight and build 
tallied approximately with those of Jackson, he was 
not nearly so old as the butler was supposed to be. Those 
who had known Jackson had placed his age between 
fifty and fifty-five, but Woodbury didn't look any older 
than thirty-five and he couldn't possibly have been more 
than forty. 

Nevertheless, Woodbury proved to be very valuable 
to Pryor for he furnished him with the name of an addi- 
tional suspect — a man who probably knew more about 
the action of light on chemical substances than any other 
chemist in '.he west, but who, for some unknown reason, 
!iad been left off the list which Professor Bauer had 
furnished to Pryor. The name of this man was Pro- 
fessor Hermann Wilson. 

"If you wish to find out about haemato-porphyrin 
and the effect which it has when injected into the blood 
of animals, you have come to the right place," Woodbury 
told Pryor. "Last year the head of our department, 
Doctor Hermann Wilson, performed a very interesting 
series of experiments on white mice. Unfortunately he 
is not here now." 



"You mean he is absent for today only." 

"He has been on leave of absence for several months]. 
You see this is his sabbatical year." 

"If that's the case I suppose he went abroad to study." 

"No. In fact he has been spending most of his time in 
Southern California. Every once in a while he pops in 
on us, locks himself up in his private laboratory for a 
week or two and then disappears as suddenly as he 
came." 

"When was the last time you saw him, if I may ask?" 

"About a month ago. He is 'Jable to bob up almost 
any time now." 

"What sort of looking man is Professor Wilson?" 
Pryor asked bluntly. 

"About my build. Like me, he also has blue eyes and 
sand -colored hair." 

"Is he as tall as you are?" 

"Not quite. About an inch shorter I would say." 

"And you are about five feet eight inches tall, are 
you not." 

"Hardly that much. Five feet seven would come 
closer to it." 

"Your colleague is an older man, I presume." 

"Not so very old. He's only fifty-one." 

"And you are about, thirty-five?" 

"More than that. Thirty-eight, to be exact." 

"Thank you. I hope you do not think I am too in- 
quisitive." 

"Not at all." 

"Are you familiar with Professor Wilson's experi- 
ments?" Pryor inquired. 

"Oh, yes. I helped him with some of them. But I 
finally had to beg off." 

"And why was that, if I may ask ?" 

"I hate to tell you," Woodbury grinned sheepishly. 
"The fact of the matter is that I am altogether too 
squeamish to be a good biologist. Inorganic chemistry 
is more in my line. You see I can't stand seeing helpless 
little animals suffer." 

"I can readily understand that," Pryor assured him. 
"How about Professor Wilson? From what you say I 
don't imagine he has any compunctions against inflicting 
pain on animals in the interests of science." 

"Oh, you mustn't think he is cruel or anything like 
that. He's just a good scientist, that's all. He takes the 
attitude that the end justifies the means." 

"Would you mind describing the experiments which 
you saw Professor Wilson perform." 

"Why certainly. But just a minute. That sounded 
like Doctor Wilson's step." Woodbury darted to the 
door, threw it open and called down the corridor: "Doc- 
tor Wilson! Would you mind coming into my office?" 

A moment later Pryor was being introduced to the 
eminent chemist. Professor Wilson's countenance was 
grim and forbidding. It looked like the face of a man 
who had met with a fearful tragedy and had become 
soured against the entire world. The coolness of his 
demeanor, which bordered on rudeness, was in marked 
contrast with the friendly, courteous good nature of 
Professor Woodbury. 

"Mr. Pryor is interested in your experiments with 
haemato-porphyrin," Woodbury explained. 

"Is that so?" Turning to Pryor he demanded. "W r hat 
are you doing here ? Why do you want to know about 
my experiments? Who are you anyway?" 

Driven by necessity, Pryor did some quick thinking 



34 



AMAZING STORIES 



and some glib lying : "I am a veterinarian," he ribbed. "I 
was engaged by a man who operates a large poultry 
ranch. Several of his thoroughbred roosters have died 
mysteriously. From the circumstances surrounding 
their deaths it looks as if sunlight had something to do 
with it. I had never heard of any similar cases before, 
so I studied up on the chemistry of light. It occurred 
to me that something like that substance may have caused 
the death of those roosters. I shall appreciate it very 
much if you will show me one of your experiments or at 
least explain the principle of it to me." 

This ingenious fabrication seemed to satisfy "Wilson, 
for he led Pryor into the sanctorum of his stuffy pri- 
vate laboratory. From a shelf Wilson took down an 
eight-ounce glass jar and handed it to Pryor. "This," 
he said dramatically, "is haemato-porphyrin." 

Pryor held the jar up to the light. It was about a 
quarter full of a beautiful, fluorescent, dark red powder. 

"I also have it in solution," Wilson explained. "This 
brown solution is alkaline. The red one is an acid 
solution." 

"Which one do you use in your experiments?" Pryor 
asked. 

"Either. It really doesn't matter. The same results 
are obtained in either case. Would you like to see the 
effect which this has on an animal?" 

"If it isn't too much trouble." 

"If I wasn't willing to do it I wouldn't make the 
offer," Wilson growled without the slightest suggestion 
of a smile. 

He departed and came back a few minutes later with 
a white mouse squirming in his bony hand. From a 
drawer he produced a small black object which turned 
out to be a tiny sweater. Wilson fitted the odd garment 
over the animal's body in such a way that only the legs, 
the tail and the tip of the mouse's nose were exposed. 

"Now we'll have to go into the dark room," he an- 
nounced as he led the way into a tiny chamber which 
was illuminated only by the blood-red glow of a ruby 
lamp. 

"With an ordinary hypodermic syringe," he explained, 
"I inject a small quantity of the solution into the blood 
stream of the mouse. As long as I keep it in the dark 
it will behave in a perfectly normal manner. But notice 
what happens when I place it in the sunlight." 

He carried the animal back into the laboratory and put 
it inside a wooden box which was open at the top. It 
was on a bench in front of a window through which the 
afternoon sunlight was streaming. Wilson opened the 
window and placed the box so that the direct rays of 
the sun shone into it. 

"Is it necessary to open the window?" Pryor asked. 

"Yes. You see this is ordinary window glass. It is 
opaque to the ultra-violet rays in the sunlight. If the 
glass panes of the sash were quartz it would not be 
necessary to open the window. Watch what happens to 
the mouse." 

For a while the animal scampered around in the shaded 
part of the box, apparently none the worse for the ex- 
perience. But when it trotted out into the lighted part 
of the receptacle, it suddenly began to stagger. In a 
few seconds its legs crumpled and it lay on its side as 
if paralyzed. 

Wilson picked the box up and carried it back to the 
dark room. Almo*t instantly the mouse revived and 
started to run around as if nothing had happened. 



"Why did you put that black garment on the mouse?'* 
Pryor inquired. 

"To protect its body from the light," Wilson eluci- 
dated. "The paralysis of the animal's limbs which yon 
just witnessed was due to the fact that its legs were ex- 
posed to the light. Because only a small part of its body 
was affected, I was able to revive it by taking it away 
from the light. Notice what happens when I remove the 
protection of the sweater." 

He picked up the mouse and took off the tiny black 
garment. Then he put it back in the box and carried it 
out into the laboratory again. The light from the open 
window had hardly fallen on the back of the little crea- 
ture before it toppled over and lay limp and motionless. 
Back into the dark room the professor carried the box. 
But this time the mouse did not revive, even after Wil- 
son had tried to bring it back by forcing oxygen into 
its lungs and by using other methods of resuscitation. Its 
tiny heart had stopped beating. It had ceased to breathe. 
It was stone dead. 

After witnessing the murder of this innocent animal, 
Pryor could readily sympathize with Woodbury, who 
had balked at being a party to such scientific slayings. 
He said nothing, however, except a word of appreciation 
and thanks to Professor Wilson. 

"By the way, Professor," he remarked, "is it neces- 
sary to use direct sunlight in order to produce effects 
like this?" 

"Why do you ask that?" 

"I was wondering. You said something about ultra- 
violet rays. It is possible to produce such rays artifi- 
cially, is it not?" 

"Certainly. I sometimes use artificial sources of light 
in my experiment. Here is one of the lamps I use." 

Pryor bent over and looked up at the light bulb. 

"I suppose that metallic spot is mercury," he re- 
marked. 

"Yes. All of these lamps have mercury in them. 
When the current is turned on some of the mercury 
vaporizes. That's what produces the ultra-violet rays." 

"Isn't it possible to produce ultra-violet rays with a 
bulb that doesn't contain mercury?" Pryor asked. 

"Not that I know of," Wilson replied. 

"Perhaps I am wrong," said the visitor, "But I have 
heard that there is a new type of lamp which was intro- 
duced recently for use in the poultry industry. It oper- 
ates in an ordinary light socket and contains no mer- 
cury." 

"Oh, you mean the CX lamps," Woodbury vol- 
unteered. "You've heard of them, haven't you Doctor?" 

"Only superficially," Wilson admitted. "My impres- 
sion is that those new lamps are still in the experimental 
stage. Do you know anything about them?" 

"Not much. But I know that they will produce ultra- 
violet rays." 

"One more question, if you please, Professor Wilson," 
Pryor interposed. "Do you know whether or not the ex- 
periment you just conducted would work with a larger 
animal — say one as large as a sheep?" 

His answer was startling. "Most assuredly. I have 
tried it myself on half a dozen large animals. Some of 
them were considerably larger than sheep." 

"And the results ?" Pryor prompted. 

"The results? Well, I would call them extremely 
gratifying," and for the first time since Pryor had met 
him, Professor Wilson smiled. But there was no mirth 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



in that smile. It reminded Pryor of the horrible grin 
on the face of a man-eating shark. It made him shud- 
der. 

With hasty expressions of thanks to both the men 
of science Pryor took his departure. He was glad to 
get outdoors where he could fill his lungs with pure, 
untainted air. 

CHAPTER XII 

More Suspects 

PRYOR spent the next few days visiting the chem- 
ical laboratories of universities in different parts 
of Southern California, and in interviewing the 
other three men on his list. 

The first of these was Theron Ward, Ph.D. He was 
short and slender. Pryor guessed his weight to be not 
more than one hundred and twenty pounds. Except for 
a narrow fringe of dark -brown hair, his head was bald. 
Large, bulging eyes, dull grey in color, seemed to be 
always staring as if in perpetual surprise. This effect 
was accentuated by a pair of enormous spectacles with 
concave lenses. 

Pryor opened the conversation by asking Professor 
Ward if he was familiar with Benjamin Moore's experi- 
ments in producing formaldehyde from carbon dioxide 
and water exposed to ultra-violet light. 

"Why, yes," Ward told him. "It happens that I have 
been doing some work along that same line myself. But 
I have to confess that my experiments thus far have not 
been very satisfactory. I have not been able to produce 
formaldehyde without the aid of a catalyst, such as fer- 
ric chloride or ferric oxide." 

"Do you know of any other examples of poisonous 
substances being produced by exposing non-poisonous 
compounds to sunlight or ultra-violet rays?" Pryor asked 
him. 

"Offhand I can't think of any such example," the pro- 
fessor replied. "Why?" 

"I thought possibly you might be familiar with the 
work which Doctor Wilson has been doing with haemato- 
porphyrin injected into the blood of animals." 

Pryor thought he saw a startled look come into those 
large, bulging eyes, but of this he could not be certain. 
The answer came readily enough. "I'm sorry, but that 
is out of my line. I know nothing whatever about Doc- 
tor Wilson's work." 

"Doubtless you have used this substance haemato- 
porphyrin for other purposes?" Pryor suggested. 

"No, I have not. To tell you the truth, I know abso- 
lutely nothing about it. Organic chemistry is a very 
broad subject, you know. You can hardly expect one 
man to be familiar with every individual phase of it." 

"Of course not." Pryor agreed. "From what you 
say, I assume that there isn't any haemato-porphyrin 
on the shelves of your laboratories." 

"I'm certain that there is none of it here," Ward as- 
sured him. "Perhaps Doctor Wilson could furnish you 
with a small quantity of it if you wished to use it for ex- 
perimental purposes." 

"Thank you for the suggestion," said the business 
counsellor. "You have been very considerate. Perhaps 
you will be willing to answer one more question." 

"Why, certainly. I shall be glad to answer your ques- 
tions — if I can." . 

Pryor's question was : "Do you know of a kind of 



a lamp which can be operated in an ordinary light socket 
and which will deliver ultra-violet rays?" 

"Why, yes. There is such a light. It is made by the 
American Electric Company, I believe. The bulb is 
made of quartz glass." 

"Do you know whether a lamp of that sort actually 
does produce ultra-violet rays?" 

"Undoubtedly it does. Of course the rays from such 
a source will not be as powerful as those renerated by 
the regular ultra-violet ray tubes, but I am sure that 
some ultra-violet light can be produced with a lamp 
such as you describe." 

"Do you happen to know the trade name of those 
special lamps." 

"No. I do not. You can probably find out by phon- 
ing to the local office of the American Electric Com- 
pany." 

"Thank you, Professor. I appreciate your courtesy 
very much." 

"You are quite welcome. Sorry I couldn't be of more 
help to you." 

"You have helped me more than you realize," was 
Pryor's significant comment. "And, by the way, Pro- 
fessor, I suppose you were away during the holidays." 

Once more those bulging eyes seemed to protrude 
a trifle .urther than usual. For an instant Ward hesi- 
tated, then he answered calmly, "Oh, yes. My daughter 
lives in Oakland. She has two children. I always spend 
Christmas and New Year's day with her." 

The next man whom Pryor interviewed was John Holt, 
professor of chemistry at Cabrillo University. Except 
for the color of his eyes and his general build, he did 
not resemble very closely the mental picture which Pryor 
had constructed from the descriptions of Jackson. For 
one thing, he was much younger, forty-three, to be exact. 
His height was hardly more than five feet five inches 
and his weight approximately one hundred and thirty- 
five pounds. The corners of his mouth drooped con- 
stantly. He was anything but cordial. 

With considerable difficulty Pryor managed to worm 
the following information out of him. He had heard 
of haemato-porphyrin and the experiments of Professor 
Wilson ; but a few adroit questions from Pryor revealed 
the fact that his knowledge of this work was very limited. 
Asked if he had any haemato-porphyrin in his laboratory 
or if he had ever used any of it himself, he answered 
both questions in the negative. With the one hundred 
and ten volt ultra-violet lamps, however, he seemed to be 
familiar, although he expressed doubt if they actually 
produced ultra-violet rays potent enough to produce 
effects comparable to sunlight. 

The last interview was with a department head in one 
of California's largest institutions of learning. His 
name was Howard Winthrop. Affable, courteous and 
accommodating, he willingly answered Pryor's questions. 
In his laboratory there was a small supply of haemato- 
porphyrin, Winthrop was well posted on the experiments 
of Professor Wilson and had himself duplicated some 
of them with small animals. He knew about the ultra- 
violet ray lamps for use in the poultry industry and 
showed Pryor one of them which he had used for ex- 
perimental purposes. When Pryor asked him where he 
had spent the holidays he declared that, with the excep- 
tion of Christmas Day, New Year's Day and Sundays, 
he had spent the entire vacation working in his labor- 
atory on the Universitv campus. 



36 



AMAZING STORIES 



1 



On the morning following his interview with Win- 
throp, the Master of Mystery went to his office and 
barked into his dictaphone a detailed report of his in- 
vestigations. While his secretary was transcribing his 
dictation, he wrote out in copper-plate long hand a brief 
summary of the salient information obtained from each 
of the suspects. 

For nearly an hour he sat studying this resume. Dur- 
ing most of this time his eyes seemed fixed on the pa- 
per, but in reality their gaze was directed inwardly into 
that marvelous mind which was weighing, measuring 
and analyzing every impression and fact. 

Suddenly his fist came down on the table and he 
yelled, "Eureka! I have it!" 

His secretary, who had been trained not to disturb 
him while he was thinking out a problem, must have 
heard the exclamation, for she opened the door and said 
softly, "Here is your report of the Strickland case, Mr. 
Pryor." 

The Master of Mystery took the typewritten pages, 
gathered up his own penciled notes and, with a mumbled, 
"Thanks, Miss Walker. I won't be back today," bolted 
out of the office. 

He walked briskly to detective headquarters and after 
a few minutes' wait was ushered into Spangler's office. 

"I thought you might be interested to know that I have 
solved the Strickland murder case," he announced. 

"Is that so?" the detective smiled. "I was hoping 
you'd flop this time, so I wouldn't have to bother making 
an arrest." 

"That may not be necessary, anyway," Pryor told him. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean that under the circumstances you can hardly 
expect me to reveal the name of the murderer to you un- 
less I think he deserves to be punished." 

"Fair enough. But suppose I agree not to make the 
arrest without your O. K. ? If I promise you that, will 
you tell me who did it?'* 

Pryor grinned. "Tell you what I'll do, Lieutenant — ■ 
I'll give you the same chance to solve this mystery that 
I had myself, only I'll save you all the work of gather- 
ing evidence. Here is a typewritten report giving a 
complete account of my investigations. If you wish, I 
shall be glad to leave it with you." 

"I'll look at it right now," Spangler declared. "And 
while I'm giving it the once over, perhaps you would 
like to read the letters and wires I have received. 1 
was saving them until they all came in. Even if you 
know who did it, you may find these messages in- 
teresting." 

"Undoubtedly," Pryor agreed. "Perhaps they will 
verify my judgment." ^ 

Only one of the wires contained any significant in- 
formation. Signed by a police official of Dallas, Texas, 
it read as follows: 

"MEN WHO KNEW MENDEZ HERE SAY 
HE HAD FRIEND NAMED ANDREW JACKSON 
WHO DRANK WITH HIM OFTEN STOP 
TACKSON WAS ABOUT FORTY FIVE YEARS 
OLD MEDIUM SIZED ATHLETIC BUILD EYES 
BLUE SANDY HAIR SMALL MOUSTACHE 
STOP CORONER SAYS DEATH MIGHT HAVE 
BEEN CAUSED BY, SOMETHING BESIDES 
SUNSTROKE. 

BURKE" 



The message from Council Bluffs, Iowa, was in trie 
form of an air mail letter: 

"Dear Lieutenant Spangler" (it said) : 

"In reply to your inquiry in regards to Ruth Whipple 
I am sending you the following information: 

"Ruth Whipple's real name is Ruth Holzberg. She 
was born in Des Moines in 1912. Her mother's maiden 
name was Mary Slocnm. She was only seventeen when 
she married Emil Holzburg, who was then attending 
the State University. They kept their marriage secret 
until Ruth was born, after which Mary's parents had 
the marriage annulled. Five years later, Mary Holz- 
burg met Samuel Whipple. They were married and 
moved to Council Bluffs. For obvious reasons, Ruth 
took her stepfather's name and only a few intimate 
friends knew her real name. Whipple always was kind 
to Ruth, treating her like his own child. Ruth's mother 
died in 1928. Whipple and his stepdaughter went to 
California merely for a vacation. So far as we have 
been able to ascertain they have no close friends or rela- 
tives in California, 

"We have not been able to trace Holzberg since he 
graduated from the University. University authorities 
say he was an excellent student and that he did espe- 
cially fine work in chemistry. 

"If we can be of any further assistance to you in this 
matter, please call on us. 

Yours truly, 

.William Anderson" 

PRYOR waited until Spangler had finished reading 
the report, then he said, "What do you make of 
it?" 

"It looks like you are on the right track," the detective 
admitted. "But I wouldn't take a chance on arresting 
any one of those men on the strength of the flimsy evi- 
dence you have collected so far." 

"Not even after reading this letter?" Pryor pointed 
to the message from Council Bluffs. 

"I couldn't find anything in that letter that would help 
solve the problem," said Spangler. "Did you get any- 
thing out of it?" 

"Most assuredly. Mr. Anderson's letter contains two 
very important links in the chain which binds our mur- 
derer to his crimes. I'll have to admit that, before I 
read this letter I was a bit uncertain, but now I am posi- 
tive that my first guess was correct." 

"You're still talking in riddles to me," the detective 
confessed. 

"Perhaps this will help you to visualize our problem." 
Pryor remarked as he handed Spangler the sheet of pa- 
per on which he had epitomized the results of his inter- 
views with the five suspected men. This is what the 
detective read : 

STRICKLAND MURDER CASE 
LIST OF SUSPECTS 
William E. Woodbury 
Age 38. Height 5 ft. 7 in. Weight about 150 lbs. 
Eyes dark blue. Hair abundant, light brown. Com- 
plexion fair. Skin unusually clear. Looks younger 
than he is. Disposition : good natured, kind hearted, 
sympathetic. Knows about haemato-porphyrin be- 
cause of work with his department head, Professor 
Wilson. Knows about CX ultra-violet ray lamps. Was 
out of town on vacation during week Strickland died. 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



37 



This period corresponds to time Jackson was em- 
ployed as a substitute butler. 

Hermann Wilson 
Age 51. Height 5 ft. 6 in. Eyes blue. Hair thick 
sandy colored. Disposition : Unattractive, blunt, ruth- 
less. Knows more about H-P than any other scien- 
tist in the west. Has performed experiments on mice 
and admits that he has been equally successful with 
larger animals. Knows about ordinary ultra-violet 
ray lamps biit claims he never heard of a U. V. R. 
light globe that will operate on an ordinary 110 volt 
house circuit. Has been on leave of absence from his 
university duties for several months (Sabbatical year) 
but has made intermittent visits to his laboratory 
where a supply of H-P is kept. 

Thcron Ward 
Age about 55. Height 5 ft. 5 l / 2 in. Weight 120 lbs. 
Bald except for fringe of dark brown hair. Eyes, 
large, bulging, dull grey, near-sighted. Wears concave 
spectacles. Disposition, accommodating, with a sugges- 
tion of "inferiority complex." Has performed experi- 
ments similar to those of Benjamin Moore (produc- 
i ng formaldehyde from inorganic substances ) , but 
claims he has never heard of haemato-porphyrin. Says 
he knows nothing about Wilson's experiments on ani- 
mals. Familiar with the violet ray lamp that can be 
used in ordinary light socket. Claims he spent Christ- 
mas and New Year's Day with his daughter in Oak- 
land, but does not say he was with her during the 
entire vacation period. 

John Holt 
Age 43. Height 5 ft. 5 in. Weight about 135 lbs. 
Eyes blue. Disposition : gloomy, pessimistic, unso- 
ciable. Has no H-P in his laboratory. Does not 
know much about Wilson's experiments. Knows 
about the ultra-violet ray lamp for use in 110 volt cir- 
cuits. Was out of town during week before New 
Year's Day. 

Howard Winthrop 
Age 46. Height 5 ft. 6 in. Eyes blue. Disposition 
ordinary. Knows about Wilson's experiments. Has 
some H-P in his laboratories. Has heard about U. V. 
R. lamps for use in poultry culture (110 volt circuits) 
but knows very little about them. Claims he was 
working in the University laboratories all during the 
vacation period, except on Sundays. Christmas Day 
and New Year's Day. 

(For purposes of comparison, the following is also 
included) : 

Albert Jackson 
Substitute butler who was on duty for two weeks 
previous to the day Strickland was found dead. (De- 
cember 20 to January 2.) Age, according to Hatha- 
way's estimate, 55. According to Miss Strickland's 
estimate, 50. Height about 5 ft. 6 inches. Build 
stocky. Weight about 140 pounds. Stoop shouldered 
Eyes pale blue. Wears no glasses. Hair light brown, 
streaked with grey. Fairly thick for a man of his 
years. Disposition: Kind, considerate, thoughtful, 
courteous. Speaks like a well educated man. 



CHAPTER XIII 
Miss Strickland Again 

SPANGLER studied this list for a few minutes be- 
fore he remarked, "Well, if I were asked to pick 
the one most likely to be the murderer, I'd have to put 
my finger on Wilson. He seems to be the one that 
knows the most about that tomato-porcelain stuff or 
whatever you call it, and with a whole year's vacation 
he had plenty of chance to get the other five too." 

"The other five died during the summer vacation," 
Pryor reminded him. "All of these college men were at 
liberty then." 

"That's right. Even at that, the suspicion seems to 
point at Wilson. But if you believe what you read in 
the detective stories, that means that Wilson couldn't 
possibly have done it. The murderer has to be the one 
that is least suspected, like this fellow Winthrop." 

"We can safely eliminate Winthrop from our list of 
suspects," Pryor told him. "I checked his assertion 
that he spent the greater part of his Christmas vacation 
doing some research work in the University laboratories 
and I found that it was true. He couldn't possibly have 
been the man who did Strickland to death," 

"Well, that helps narrow it down," said Spangler 
cheerfully. "And for that matter, why not eliminate 
two more ?" 

"Which ones do you mean?" 

"Woodbury and Ward. Neither of them comes any- 
where near the description of Jackson. I suppose you 
still think that the man who did it is the same man who 
called himself Jackson." 

"Of that I am positive," Pryor assured him. 

"O. K. Then that leaves only Wilson and Holt. Of 
course Ward could have covered his bald head with a 
wig. But my guess would be Wilson. After all this 
isn't a story book, even if it does sound like a fairy tale. 
In real life the guilty person is usually the one that you 
have reason to suspect most — not the one that is least 
suspected." 

"True enough," Pryor conceded. "Providing the sus- 
picions are well founded." 

Spangler waited patiently for Pryor to divulge the 
name of the man he thought was guilty, but all the 
Master of Mystery said was, "Do you mind if I use 
your phone?" 

*'Help yourself," said the detective. 

Pryor dialed a number. When the call was answered 
he said, "This is Mr. Pryor. I would like to speak to 
Miss Strickland, if you please." 

Soon a soft melodious voice said, "Good afternoon. 
Mr, Pryor." 

"Good afternoon, Miss Strickland. Are you going 
to be home for an hour or so ?" 

"Why, yes." 

"May I see you for a few minutes if I come to your 
home now?" 

"Why, yes, of course, I shall be glad to have you 
come out any time, Mr. Pryor." 

She was more beautiful than ever when she greeted 
him in her living room half an hour later. 

With characteristic bluntness, Pryor plunged into the 
mission which had brought him there. 

"I came to tell you that I have solved the mystery 
surrounding your father's death." 



38 



AMAZING STORIES 



Pained surprise flashed across her lovely face. 

"You mean " she said in a trembling voice. "You 

mean that " 

"Yes," said Pryor without waiting for her to finish 
the sentence. "Your father was murdered. And I have 
found his murderer." 

He was totally unprepared for the effect which this 
announcement had on the girl. With a low moan, she 
sank down on the davenport, buried her face in her 
bent arm and began to sob convulsively. 

Before this unexpected storm of grief, Pryor was 
as helpless as if he were paralyzed. He wanted to com- 
fort and console her but he didn't know what to say — 
he didn't know what to do. So he said nothing and did 
nothing. Presently she raised her head, dabbed at her 
face with a flimsy, ridiculously inadequate handker- 
chief and said, "Please forgive me, Mr. Pryor. This is 
such a shock that I — I — well I just lost control of my- 
self. I'm sorry." 

Pryor finally found his voice. "But my dear Miss 
Strickland, why should you weep at the thought of ap- 
prehending the man who was responsible for your 
father's death?" 

"Don't you understand ? To mother and me this 
means nothing but a lot of unwelcome publicity. For 
over a year we have been trying to live down the scandal 
which was laid at father's door at the time when the 
Whipple girl was ruined. The public had just about 
forgotten us when father died. Now you say he was 
murdered. That means more publicity. It means rak- 
ing over all the detestable filth that we thought was 
buried. Can't you see why mother and I would much 
prefer to have the world think that father died a 
natural death?" 

"I understand now," said Pryor in a tone of regret. 
"How blind I have been ! I pride myself on my so-called 
analytical mind and here I have completely failed in 
my analysis of your attitude. But you don't need to 
fear, Miss Strickland. The police know very little about 
this and I am tinder no obligation to inform them. After 
all, I was first asked to help your father and now it 
looks as if the only way I can help him and his dear 
ones is to remain silent." 

She looked up at him with the light of gratitude 
gleaming through the tears in her eyes as she said : "I 
can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness, 
Mr. Pryor. I realize what a sacrifice this means to 
you. You are known as a man who always completes 
successfully every task he undertakes. It will take a 
lot of sacrifice on your part to refrain from telling 
Lieutenant Spangler about your success in this case." 

"It may not be necessary to make that sacrifice," 
Pryor smiled. "That doesn't trouble me nearly as much 
as another consideration does." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean the attitude of the murderer himself. No 
doubt he felt that he had ample justification for com- 
mitting those six murders. You see he was Ruth's real 
father. Whipple was just her stepfather. But, regard- 
less of how he felt, he had no right to assume such 
arbitrary and despotic powers. He virtually appointed 
himself to be the judge and jury and executioner all 
rolled into one. It would be dangerous to permit such 
a man to escape without some punishment." 

"But how are you going to punish him without hav- 
ing him indicted?" 



"I think I know how to do it," Pryor told her, "May 
1 use your phone?" 

Talking softly into the instrument, Pryor first made 
sure that he had the right person on the line. Then, in 
a loud, deliberate voice he said, "Your real name is 
Emil Holzburg, isn't it?" 

"Who are you?" the man at the other end demanded. 

Without answering the question, Pryor went grimly 
on: 

"At various times you have also used the name Jack- 
son, haven't you? In Texas it was Andrew Jackson; in 
Hollywood it was Albert Jackson. That is true, isn't 
it?" 

"Who are you?" This time the question came in a 
frightened whisper that was barely audible. 

"Never mind who I am. My name has nothing to do 
with the case. What does matter is that I know who 
you are and what you have done. I know that you 
murdered James Strickland and the five other men who 
were accused of causing the ruin of your daughter Ruth. 
I also know that you used a chemical called haemato- 
porphyrin in committing these six murders." 

"What are you going to do?" The voice was a trifle 
louder but it still trembled with fear. 

"Nothing!' was Pryor's astonishing response. "It 
happens that I am a friend of James Strickland's 
daughter. Turning you over to the police would mean 
distressing publicity. This Miss Strickland and her 
mother wish to avoid. For that reason you will prob- 
ably be safe from the strictly legal consequences of your 
crimes." 

"For that I am grateful to " the man started to 

say, but Pryor interrupted him with : 

"That does not mean that you are to escape the con- 
sequences of your crimes." 

"What? — How? — Why? " the voice stammered, 

and Pryor went inexorably on : 

"You are a man of superior intellect, Holzburg. You 
certainly must realize that, even if you thought you had 
ample justification for avenging your daughter, you had 
no right to take the law into your own hands. Having 
done so it devolves upon you to carry out the remainder 
of the law's work." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You have appointed yourself judge, jury and execu- 
tioner for James Strickland and five other men. It is 
only logical that you should also assume the responsi- 
bility for punishing the man who murdered them." 

"You mean?" 

"Now that you know your crimes have been dis- 
covered, you must be guided entirely by your own con- 
science. Good-bye !" 

CHAPTER XIV 

Gathering the Loose Threads 

FOR several days Pryor scanned the columns of 
the Los Angeles newspapers with the utmost care. 
Then one morning he found the story he was 
looking for. He tore out the article and slipped it be- 
neath the cover of a notebook which he placed in his 
pocket. 

Forty minutes later he was in Spangler's office. 
"Oh, hello, Mr. Pryor," the detective greeted him. 
"I'm glad vou came to see me. That Strickland case is 



SEVEN SUNSTROKES 



39 



getting my goat. I can't do anything else for thinking 
about it. I even lay awake nights trying to figure out 
how you could be so all fired sure about the one you 
think murdered Strickland." 

"But you know now, of course?" 

"Darned if I do. After all my deliberating, I still 
think that Wilson is the man." 

Pryor smiled : "It won't be necessary for you to 
trouble your mind about it any more, lieutenant. The 
case is all settled — settled in a way that seems to be 
best for everybody concerned. You won't need to bother 
about arresting anybody. Miss Strickland and her 
mother will be spared the ordeal of unwelcome publicity. 
I have completed my task successfully and the murderer 
has received a just punishment. Did you see this in 
today's Times?" And he handed the newspaper clip- 
ping to Spangler. 

The detective read it and then exclaimed: "Well, I'll 

be I don't know what. So the murderer was that 

nice chap Woodbury!" 

"Yes, Woodbury, Jackson and Holzburg are one and 
the same person." 

"Is he the one you suspected?" 

"He was the one I knew did it." 

"Whatever made you suspect him?" 

"It was largely a matter of mathematics." 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"Woodbury was the only one of the five who had all 
the knowledge and all the opportunities necessary for 
the commission of Strickland's murder." 

"I don't get you yet." 

"Then let me elucidate: Wilson knew all about 
haemato-porphyrin, but he said he knew nothing about 
the CX ultra-violet ray lamp, and I saw no reason for 
doubting his assertion. Ward knew about the CX 
lamps but did not have a supply of haemato-porphyrin 
readily available, and was not familiar with the action 
of this substance on animals. Holt knew about the 
violet ray lamps for ordinary lighting circuits but he 
knew very little about haemato-porphyrin. Winthrop 
possessed both the knowledge and the materials re- 
quired but he lacked the opportunity, because he was 
working in his laboratories during the Christmas vaca- 
tion. That leaves Woodbury, who knew all about the 
one hundred and ten volt ultra-violet ray lamp. In fact 
he was the only one of the five who knew the trade 
name 'CX'." 

"I see now how you happened to make such a clever 
guess, but after all, it was nothing more than a guess, 
now was it?" 

"Call it a guess if you wish. Did you ever work out! 
a jigsaw puzzle of a famous person's portrait?" 

"I guess I did waste my time that way when I was a 
kid," Spangler replied. "What's that got to do with it?" 

"Only this. When you work out a puzzle like that 
it sometimes takes only a few pieces to identify the per- 
son represented. Even though the picture is only one- 
tenth complete you can often tell positively what the 
final result will be. After that, each piece you add 
merely serves to corroborate what you already know. 
Do you get the analogy now ?" 

"In a way I do." 

"Very well, then. Suppose I admit that my original 



judgment was nothing but a guess. It required only the 
addition of two more pieces to my jigsaw puzzle to 
make that guess a certainty. I obtained those two pieces 
from the air mail letter which our friend Mr. Anderson 
of Council Bluffs supplied." 

"You've still got me guessing," Spangler admitted. 
"What did you get out of that letter ?" 

"Two very important details, namely, our quarry's 
name and his approximate age. The name of Ruth's 
father was Holzburg. Don't you get the significance of 
that? He must have graduated from college just about 
the time of the World War. You could hardly blame 
him for wanting to change such a Teutonic name as 
Holzburg. All he aid was to translate it into English : 
'Holz/ you know, is the German for 'wood'." 

"And what about his age?" 

"That was in the letter, too. He was married while 
he was a college student. The girl he married was seven- 
teen at the time. He was probably not more than nine- 
teen. Ruth was born a year later. She was seventeen 
when she died about a year ago. Add it up and what do 
you get? Thirty-eight. Exactly the age of Woodbury 
and several years younger than any of the others." 

"But I thought you said that Jackson and the man 
who committed the murders were the same person." 

"I still think so." 

"But Jackson was a lot older than thirty-eight, ac- 
cording to the descriptions we had of him. Also your 
report says that Woodbury was five feet seven inches 
tall and Jackson wasn't over five feet six." 

"You will also recall that he was stoop shouldered. 
That would easily account for the missing inch. Wood- 
bury naturally took the precaution of disguising him- 
self. It is not very difficult for a man of his age to 
make himself look several years older." 

"Right you are," Spangler conceded. "But what do 
you suppose this newspaper article means? It almost 
looks as if Woodbury committed suicide. What do you 
think about it?" 

With a grim, inscrutable smile, Pryor replied, "That 
hypothesis is as good as any. However, I, for my part, 
prefer to accept the newspaper's account of the tragedy." 

"You mean " 

Pryor picked up the clipping and read: 

"SAVANT IS MARTYR TO SCIENCE 

"William Emil Woodbury, professor of chemistry at 
Santa Ana University, was found dead in his laboratory 
yesterday afternoon. Circumstances surrounding his 
death indicate that he met with an accident while ex- 
perimenting with an apparatus for producing ultra- 
violet rays. He had evidently been testing the effect of 
this light on his own person for the part of his body 
above his waist was nude when he was found. 

"According to Professor Hermann Wilson, head of 
the department of chemistry, Professor Woodbury has 
been performing a series of experiments with a rare 
substance, which, when injected into the blood of an 
animal makes it extremely sensitive to ultra-violet light. 
It is thought that some of this chemical might have been 
absorbed by Woodbury's system and that the action of 
the ultra-violet ray light produced an effort similar to 
that of sunstroke." 



The End. 



The Jfyst zJKachine 



By John B. Harris 



T^SYCHOLOGISTS — and others — are greatly concerned about the effects — 
J. possible and assured — of machines and the machine age, on human life and 
endeavor. But who has ever stopped to consider the possible reactions — 
or thoughts — of the advanced machine of the future? That, apparently, was left 
to our brothers across the sea, and one of them at least has done an excellent bit 
of work on its presentation. Here is a story that is different indeed, and thor- 
oughly English in its atmosphere! 



" "W -- VATHER, here, quickly," Joan's voice called 
I j down the long corridor. 

■"""^ Dr. Falkner, who was writing, checked him- 
self in mid-sentence at the sound of his daugh- 
ter's urgency. 

"Father," she called again. 

"Coming," he shouted as he hastily levered himself 
out of his easy chair. 

"This way," he added for the benefit of his two com- 
panions. 

Joan was standing at the open door of the laboratory. 

"It's gone," she said. 

"What do you mean?" he inquired brusquely as he 
brushed past her into the room. "Run away?" 

"No, not that," Joan's dark curls fell forward as her 
head shook. "Look there." 

He followed the line of her pointing finger to the 
corner of the room. 

A pool of liquid metal was seeping into a widening 
circle. In the middle there rose an elongated, silvery 
mound which seemed to melt and run even as he looked. 
Speechlessly he watched the central mass flow out into 
the surrounding fluid, pushing the edges gradually 
further and further across the floor. 

Then the mound was gone — nothing lay before him 
but a shapeless spread of glittering silver, like a mini- 
ature lake of mercury. 

For some moments the doctor seemed unable to speak. 
At length he recovered himself sufficiently to ask hoarse- 
ly: 

"That— that was it?" 

Joan nodded. 

"It was recognizable when I first saw it," she said. 

Angrily he turned upon her. 

"How did it happen? Who did it?" he demanded. 

"I don't know," the girl answered, her voice trembling 
a little as she spoke. "As soon as I got back to the 
house I came in here just to see that it was all right. It 
wasn't in the usual corner and as I looked around I 
caught sight of it over here — melting. I shouted for 
you as soon as I realized what was happening." 



One of the doctor's companions stepped from the 
background. 

"This," he inquired, "is — was the machine you were 
telling us about?" 

There was a touch of a sneer in his voice as he put 
the question and indicated the quivering liquid with the 
toe of one shoe. 

"Yes," the doctor admitted slowly. "That was it." 

"And, therefore, you can offer no proof of the talk 
you were handing out to us?" added the other man. 

"We've got film records," Joan began tentatively. 
"They're pretty good. . . ." 

The second man brushed her words aside. 

"Oh, yes?" he asked sarcastically. "I've seen pictures 
of New York as it's going to look in a couple of hundred 
years, but that don't mean that anyone went there to 
take 'em. There's a whole lot of things that can be done 
with movies," he insinuated. 

Joan flushed, but kept silent. The doctor paid no at- 
tention. His brief flash of anger had subsided to leave 
him gazing sadly at the remains before him. 

"Who can have done it?" he repeated half to himself. 

His daughter hesitated for a moment before she sug- 
gested : 

"I think — I think it must have done it itself." 

"An accident? — I wonder," murmured the doctor. 

"No — no, not quite that," she amended. "I think it 
was — lonely," the last word came out with a defiant rush. 

There was a pause. 

"Well, can you beat that?" said one of the others at 
last. "Lonely — a lonely machine: that's a good one. 
And I suppose you're trying to feed us that it committed 
suicide, miss? Well, it wouldn't surprise me any; noth- 
ing would, after the story your father gave us." 

He turned on his heel and added to his companion: 

"Come on. I guess someone'll be turnin' this place 
into a sanitarium soon — we'd better not be here when it 
happens." 

With a laugh the two went out leaving father and 
daughter to stare helplessly at the residue of a van- 
ished machine. 




Illustrated by MOREY 



"A second later there came a stunning ex- 
plosion. . . . The cause of the disaster must 
always remain a mystery. ... / only know 
that when I looked up the vessel was no- 
where to be seen . . . only a rain of metal 
parts dropping to earth all about me." 



42 



AMAZING STORIES 



At length Joan sighed and moved away. As she raised 
her eyes, she became aware of a pile of paper on the 
corner of a bench. She did not remember how it came 
to be there and crossed with idle curiosity to examine it. 

The doctor was aroused from his reverie by the note 
of excitement in her voice. 

"Look here, father," she called sharply. 

"What's that?" he asked, catching sight of the wad of 
sheets in her hand. 

As he came closer he could see that the top one was 
covered with strange characters. 

"What on earth ... ?" he began. 

Joan's voice was curt with his stupidity. 

"Don't you see?" she cried. "It's written this for us." 

The doctor brightened for a moment; then the ex- 
pression of gloom returned to his face. 

"But how can we . . . ?" 

"The thing wasn't a fool — it must have learned enough 
of our language to put a key in somewhere to all this 
weird stuff, even if it couldn't write the whole thing 
in English. Look, this might be it, it looks even queerer 
than the rest." 

Several weeks of hard work followed for Joan in her 
efforts to decipher the curious document, but she held 
on with painstaking labor until she was able to lay the 
complete text before her father. That evening he picked 
up the pile of typed sheets and read steadily, without 
interruption, to the end. . . . 



A s 



Arrival 

S we slowed to the end of our journey, Banuff be- 
gan to show signs of excitement. 

"Look," he called to me. "The third planet, 
at last." 

I crossed to stand beside him and together we gazed 
down upon a stranger scene than any other fourth planet 
eyes have ever seen. 

Though we were still high above the surface, there 
was plenty to cause us astonishment. 

In place of our own homely red vegetation, we beheld 
a brilliant green. The whole land seemed to be covered 
with it. Anywhere and everywhere it clung and thrived 
as though it needed no water. On the fourth planet, 
which the third planet men call Mars, the vegetation 
grows only in or around the canals, but here we could 
not even see any canals. The only sign of irrigation 
was one bright streak of water in the distance, twisting 
senselessly over the countryside — a symbolic warning of 
the incredible world we had reached. 

Here and there our attention was attracted by out- 
croppings of various strange rocks amid all this green. 
Great masses of stone which sent up plumes of black 
smoke. 

"The internal fires must be very near the surface of 
this world," Banuff said, looking doubtfully at the rising 
vapors. 

"See in how many places the smoke breaks out. I 
should doubt whether it has been possible for animal 
life to evolve on such a planet. It is possible yet that 
the ground may be too hot for us — or rather for me." 

There was a regret in his tone. The manner in which 
he voiced the last sentence stirred my sympathy. There 
are so many disadvantages in human construction which 
do not occur in us machines, and I knew that he was 
eager to obtain first hand knowledge of the third planet. 



For a long time we gazed in silent speculation at this 
queer, green world. At last Banuff broke the silence. 
"I think we'll risk a landing there, Zat," he said, 
indicating a smooth, open space. 

"You don't think it might be liquid," I suggested, "it 
looks curiously level." 

"No," he replied, "I fancy it's a kind of close vege- 
tation. Anyway, we can risk it." 

A touch on the lever sent the machine sinking rapidly 
towards a green rectangle, so regular as to suggest the 
work of sentient creatures. On one of its sides lay a 
large stone outcrop, riddled with holes and smoking 
from the top like the rest, while on the other three sides, 
thick vegetation rose high and swayed in the wind. 

"An atmosphere which can cause such commotion 
must be very dense," commented Banuff. 

"That rock is peculiarly regular," I said, "and the 
smoking points are evenly spaced. Do you suppose . . . ? 
The slight jar of our landing interrupted me. 
"Get ready, Zat," Banuff ordered. 
I was ready. I opened the inner door and stepped 
into the air-lock. Banuff would have to remain inside 
until I could find out whether it was possible for him to 
adjust. Men may have more power of originality than 
we, and they do possess a greater degree of adaptability 
than any other form of life, but their limitations are, 
nevertheless, severe. It might require a deal of ponder- 
ous apparatus to enable Banuff to withstand the con- 
ditions, but for me, a machine, adaptation was simple. 
The density of the atmosphere made no difference 
save slightly to slow my movements. The temperature, 
within very wide limits, had no effect upon me. 

"The gravity will be stronger," Banuff had warned 
me, "this is a much larger planet than ours." 

It had been easy to prepare for that by the addition 
of a fourth pair of legs. 

Now, as I walked out of the air-lock, I was glad of 
them ; the pull of the planet was immense. 

After a moment or so of minor adjustment, I passed 
around our machine to the window where Banuff stood, 
and held up the instruments for him to see. As he 
read the air pressure meter, the gravity indicator and 
the gas proportion scale, he shook his head. He might 
slowly adapt himself partway to the conditions, but an 
immediate venture was out of the question. 

It had been agreed between us that in such an event 
I should perform the exploration and specimen collect- 
ing while he examined the neighborhood from the 
machine. 

He waved his arm as a signal and, in response, I set 
off at a good pace for the surrounding green and brown 
growths. I looked back as I reached them to see our 
silvery craft floating slowly up into the air. 

A second later, there came a stunning explosion ; a 
wave of sound so strong in this thick atmosphere that 
it almost shattered my receiving diaphragm. 

The cause of the disaster must always remain a mys- 
tery : I only know that when I looked up, the vessel was 
nowhere to be seen — only a rain of metal parts dropping 
to earth all about me. 

Cries of alarm came from the large stone outcrop and 
simultaneously human figures appeared at the lowest of 
its many openings. 

They began to run towards the vreck, but my speed 
was far greater than theirs. They can have made but 
half the distance while I completed it. As I flashed 



THE LOST MACHINE 



43 



across, I could see them falter and stop with ludicrous 
expressions of dismay on their faces. 

"Lord, did you see that?" cried one of them. 

"What the devil was it?" called another. 

"Looked like a coffin on legs," somebody said. "Mov- 
ing some, too." 

Flight 

BANUFF lay in a ring of scattered debris. 
Gently I raised him on my fore-rods. A very 
little examination showed that it was useless to 
attempt any assistance: he was too badly broken. He 
managed to smile faintly at me and then slid into uncon- 
sciousness. 

I was sorry. Though Banuff was not of my own 
kind, yet he was of my own world and on the long trip 
I had grown to know him well. These humans are so 
fragile. Some little thing here or there breaks — they 
stop working and then, in a short time, they are decom- 
posing. Had he been a machine, like myself, I could 
have mended him, replaced the broken parts and made 
him as good as new, but with these animal structures 
one is almost helpless. 

I became aware, while I gazed at him, that the crowd 
of men and women had drawn closer and I began to 
suffer for the first time from what has been my most 
severe disability on the third planet — I could not com- 
municate with them. 

Their thoughts were understandable, for my sensitive 
plate was tuned to receive human mental waves, but I 
could not make myself understood. My language was 
unintelligible to them, and their minds, either from lack 
of development or some other cause, were unreceptive 
of my thought -radiations. 

As they approached, huddled into a group, I made an 
astonishing discovery — they were afraid of me. 

Men afraid of a machine. 

It was incomprehensible. Why should they be afraid? 
Surely man and machine are natural complements : they 
assist one another. For a moment I thought I must 
have misread their minds — it was possible that thoughts 
registered differently on this planet, but it was a possi- 
bility I soon dismissed. 

There were only two reasons for this apprehension. 
The one, that they had never seen a machine or, the 
other, that third planet machines had pursued a line of 
development inimical to them. 

I turned to show Banuff lying inert on my fore-rods. 
Then, slowly, so as not to alarm them, I approached. I 
laid him down softly on the ground near by and retired 
a short distance. Experience has taught me that men 
like their own broken forms to be dealt with by their 
own kind. Some stepped forward to examine him, the 
rest held their ground, their eyes fixed upon me. 

Banuff's dark coloring appeared to excite them not a 
little. Their own skins were pallid from lack of ultra- 
violet rays in their dense atmosphere. 

"Dead ?" asked one. 

"Quite dead," another one nodded. "Curious looking 
fellow," he continued. "Can't place him ethnologically 
at all. Just look at the frontal formation of the skull 
— very odd. And the size of his ears, too, huge : the 
whole head is abnormally large." 

"Never mind him now," one of the group broke in, 
"he'll keep. That's the thing that puzzles me," he went 



on, looking in my direction. "What the devil do you 
suppose it is?" 

They all turned wondering faces towards me. I stood 
motionless and waited while they summed me up. 

"About six feet long," ran the thoughts of one of 
them. "Two feet broad and two deep. White metal, 
might be — (his thought conveyed nothing to me). Four 
legs to a side, fixed about halfway up — jointed rather 
like a crab's, so are the arm-like things in front: but 
all metal. Wonder what the array of instruments and 
lenses on this end are? Anyhow, whatever kind of power 
it uses, it seems to have run down now. . . ." 

Hesitatingly he began to advance. 

I tried a word of encouragement. 

The whole group froze rigid. 

"Did you hear that?" somebody whispered. "It — it 
spoke." 

"Loud speaker," replied the one who had been making 
an inventory of me. Suddenly his expression bright- 
ened. 

"I've got it," he cried. "Remote control — a telephony 
and television machine worked by remote control." 

So these people did know something of machinery, 
after all. He was far wrong in his guess, but in my 
relief I took a step forward. 

An explosion roared : something thudded on my body 
case and whirred away. I saw that one of the men was 
pointing a hollow rod at me and I knew that he was 
about to make another explosion. 

The first had done no injury but another might crack 
one of my lenses. 

I turned and made top speed for the high, green vege- 
tation. Two or three more bursts roared behind, but 
nothing touched me. The weapon was very primitive 
and grossly inaccurate. 

Disappointment 

FOR a day and a night I continued on among the 
hard stemmed growths. 
For the first time since my making, I was com- 
pletely out of touch with human control, and my exis- 
tence seemed meaningless. The humans have a curious 
force they call ambition. It drives them, and, through 
them, it drives us. This force which keeps them active, 
we lack. Perhaps, in time, we machines will acquire it. 
Something of the kind — self-preservation which is allied 
to it — must have made me leave the man with the ex- 
plosive tube and taken me into the strange country. But 
it was not enough to give me an objective. I seemed to 
go on because — well, because my machinery was con- 
structed to go on. 

On the way I made some odd discoveries. 

Every now and then my path would be crossed by a 
band of hard matter, serving no useful purpose which I 
could then understand. Once, too, I found two unending 
rods of iron fixed horizontally to the ground and stretch- 
ing away into the distance on either side. At first I 
thought they might be a method of guarding the land 
beyond, but they presented no obstacle. 

Also, I found that the frequent outcroppings of stone 
were not natural, but laboriously constructed. Obvious- 
ly this primitive race, with insufficient caves to hold its 
growing numbers, had been driven to construct artificial 
caves. The puzzling smoke arose from their method of 
heating these dwellings with naked fire — so wasteful a 



44 



AMAZING STORIES 



system of generating heat that no flame has heen seen on 
the fourth planet,* save in an accident, for thousands of 
years. 

It was during the second day that I saw my first 
machine on this planet. 

It stood at the side of one of the hard strips of land 
which had caused me so much wonder. The glitter of 
light upon its bright parts caught my lenses as I came 
through the bushes. My delight knew no bounds — at 
Ia.«t I had found a being of my own kind. In my excite- 
ment I gave a call to attract its attention. 

There was a flurry of movement round the far side 
and a human figure raised its head to look at me. 

I was able to tell that she was a woman despite the 
strange coverings that the third planet humans put upon 
themselves. She stared at me, her eyes widening in 
surprise while I could feel the shock in her mind. A 
spanner dropped from her hand and then, in a flash, 
she was into the machine, slamming the door behind her. 
There came a frantic whirring as she pressed a knob, 
but it produced no other result. 

Slowly I continued to advance and as I came, the agita- 
tion in her mind increased. I had no wish to alarm her 
— it would have been more peaceful had her thought 
waves ceased to bombard me — but I was determined to 
know this machine. 

As I drew clear of the bushes, I obtained a full view 
of the thing for the first time and disappointment hit 
me like a blow. The thing had wheels. Not just neces- 
cessary parts of its internal arrangements, but wheels 
actually in contact with the ground. In a flash the 
explanation of all these hard streaks came to me. Un- 
believable though it may seem, this thing could only 
follow a track specially built for it. 

Later I found that this was more or bss true of all 
third planetf land machines, but my first discouragement 
was painful. The primitive barbarity of the thing sad- 
dened me more than any discovery I had yet made. 

Forlornly, and with little hope, I spoke to it. 

There was no answer. 

It stood there dumbly inert upon its foolish wheels 
as though it were a part of the ground itself. 

Walking closer, I began to examine with growing 
disgust its crude internal arrangements. Incredibly, I 
found that its only means of propulsion was by a series 
of jerks from frequent explosions. Moreover, it was so 
ludicrously unorganized that both driving engine and 
brakes could be applied at the same time. 

Sadly, as I gazed at the ponderous parts within, I be- 
gan to feel that I was indeed alone. Until this encounter, 
my hope of discovering an intelligent machine had not 
really died. But now I knew that such a thing could 
not exist in the same world with this monster. 

One of my fore-rods brushed against a part of it with 
a rasping sound and there came a startled cry of alarm 
from within. I looked up to the glass front where the 
woman's face peered affrightedly. Her mind was in 
such a state of confusion that it was difficult to know 
her wants clearly. 

She hoped that I would go away — no, she wished the 
car would start and carry her away — she wondered 
whether I were an animal, whether I even really ex- 
isted. In a jumble of emotions she was afraid and at 
die same time was angry with herself for being afraid. 
At last I managed to grasp that the machine was unable 
to run. I turned to find the trouble. 



As I labored with the thing's horrible vitals, it be- 
came clear to me why men, such as I had met, showed 
fear of me. No wonder they feared machines when 
their own mechanisms were as inefficient and futile as 
this. What reliance or trust could they place in a ma- 
chine so erratic — so helpless that it could not even tem- 
porarily repair itself? It was not under its own control 
and only partially under theirs. Third planet men's at- 
titude became understandable— commendable — if all their 
machines were as uncertain as this. 

The alarm in the woman's mind yielded to amazement 
as she leaned forward and watched me work. She 
seemed to think me unreal, a kind of hallucination : 

"I must be dreaming," she told herself. "That thing 
can't really be mending my car for me. It's impossible ; 
some kind of horrid nightmare. . . ." 

There came a flash of panic at the thought of mad- 
ness, but her mind soon rebalanced. 

"I just don't understand it," she said firmly and then, 
as though that settled it, proceeded to wait with a grow- 
ing calm. 

At last I had finished. As I wiped the thing's coarse, 
but necessary oil from my fore-rods, I signalled her to 
■push again on the black knob. The whirr this time was 
succeeded by a roar — never would I have believed that a 
machine could be so inefficient. 

Through the pandemonium I received an impression 
of gratitude on my thought plate. Mingling traces of 
nervousness remained, but first stood gratitude. 

Then she was gone. Down the hard strip I watched 
the disgusting machine dwindle away to a speck. 

Then I turned back to the bushes and went slowly on 
my way. Sadly I thought of the far away, red fourth 
planet and knew that my fate was sealed. I could not 
build a means of return. I was lost — the only one of 
my kind upon this primitive world. 

The Beasts 

THEY came upon me as I crossed one of the 
smooth, green spaces so frequent on this world. 
My thought-cells were puzzling over my condi- 
tion. On the fourth planet I had felt interest or dis- 
interest, inclination or the lack of it, but little more. 
Now I had discovered reactions in myself which, had 
they lain in a human being, I should have called emo- 
tions. I was, for instance, lonely: I wanted the com- 
pany of my own kind. Moreover, I had begun to ex- 
perience excitement or, more particularly, apathy. 

An apathetic machine! 

I was considering whether this state was a develop- 
ment from the instinct of self preservation, or whether 
it might not be due to the action of surrounding matter 
on my chemical cells, when I heard them coining. 

First there was a drumming in my diaphragm, swell- 
ing gradually to a thunderous beat which shook the 
ground. Then I turned to see them charging down 
upon me. 

Enormous beasts, extinct on my planet a million years, 
covered with hair and bearing spikes on their heads. 
Four-footed survivals of savagery battering across the 
land in unreasoning ferocity. 

Only one course was possible since my escape was cut 
off by the windings of one of the imbecile-built canals. 
I folded my legs beneath me, crossed my fore-rods pro- 
tectingly over my lenses and diaphragms, and waited. 



THE LOST MACHINE 



45 



They slowed as they drew close. Suspiciously they 
came up to me and snuffled around. One of them gave a 
rap to my side with his spiked head, another pawed my 
case with a hoofed foot. I let them continue : they did 
not seem to offer any immediate danger. Such primitive 
animals, I thought, would be incapable of sustaining 
interest and soon move off elsewhere. 

But they did not. Snuffling and rooting continued all 
around me. At last I determined to try an experimental 
waving of my fore-rods. The result was alarming. They 
plunged and milled around, made strange bellowing 
noises and stamped their hooves, but they did not go 
away. Neither did they attack, though they snorted 
and pawed the more energetically. 

In the distance I heard a man's voice ; his thought 
reached me faintly. 

"What the 'ell's worritin' them dam cattle.. Bill ?" he 
called. 

"Dunno," came the reply of another. "Let's go an' 
'ave a look." 

The beasts gave way at the approach of the man and I 
could hear some of them thudding slowly away, though 
I did not, as yet, care to risk uncovering my lenses. 

The men's voices drew quite near. 

" 'Strewth," said the first, " 'ow did that get 'ere, 
Bill?" 

"Search me," answered the other. "Wasn't 'ere 'arf 
an hour ago — that I'll swear. What is it, any'ow?" 

" 'Anged if I know. 'Ere, give us a 'and and we'll 
turn it over." 

At this moment it seemed wise to make a movement ; 
my balancers might be slow in adjusting to an inverted 
position. 

There was a gasp, then: 

"Bill," came an agitated whisper, "did you see that 
rod there at the end? It moved, blessed if it didn't." 

"Go on," scoffed the other. " 'Ow could a thing like 
that move? You'll be sayin' next that it . . ." 

I unfolded my legs and turned to face them. 

For a moment both stood rooted, horror on their faces, 
then, with one accord, they turned and fled towards a 
group of their buildings in the distance. I followed them 
slowly : it seemed as good a direction as any other, 

The buildings, not all of stone, were arranged so as 
almost to enclose a square. As the men disappeared 
through an opening in one side, I could hear their voices 
raised in warning and others demanding the reason for 
their excitement. I turned the corner in time to face a 
gaggling group of ten or twelve. Abruptly it broke as 
they ran to dark openings in search of safety. All, save 
one. 

I halted and looked at this remaining one. He stared 
back, swaying a little as he stood, his eyes blinking in 
a vague uncertainty. 

"What is it?" he exclaimed at last with a strange 
explosiveness, but as though talking to himself. 

He was a sorely puzzled man. I found his mental 
processes difficult to follow. They were jumbled and 
erratic, hopping from this mind picture to that in un- 
controlled jerks. But he was unafraid of me and I was 
glad of it. The first third planet man I had met who was 
not terror-ridden. Nevertheless, he seemed to doubt 
my reality. 

"You fellowsh shee the shame sT do ?" he called deaf- 
en ingly. 

Muffled voices all around assured him that this was so. 



"Thash all right, then," he observed with relief, and 
took a step forward. 

I advanced slowly not to alarm him and we met in the 
middle of the yard. Laying a rough hand on my body- 
case he seemed to steady himself, then he patted me once 
or twice. 

"Goo' ol* dog," he observed seriously. "Goo' ol' 
feller. Come 'long, then." 

Looking over his shoulder to see that I followed and 
making strange whistling noises the while, he led the way 
to a building made of the hard, brown vegetable matter. 
At openings all about us scared faces watched our prog- 
ress with incredulous amazement. 

He opened the door and waved an uncertain hand in 
the direction of a pile of dried stalks which lay within. 

"Goo' ol' dog," he repeated. "Lie down. There'sh 
a goo' dog." 

In spite of the fact that I, a machine, was being mis- 
taken for a primitive animal, I obeyed the suggestion 
— after all, he, at least, was not afraid. 

He had a little difficulty with the door fastening as he 
went out. 

The Circus 

THERE followed one of those dark periods of 
quiet. The animal origin of human beings puts 
them under the disability of requiring frequent 
periods of recuperation and, since they cannot use the 
infra-red rays for sight, as we do, their rests take place 
at times when they are unable to see. 

With the return of sunlight came a commotion out- 
side the door. Expostulations were being levelled at 
one named Tom — he who had led me here the previous 
day. 

"You ain't really goin' to let it out?" one voice 
was asking nervously. 

" 'Course I am. Why not?" Tom replied. 

"The thing don't look right to me. I wouldn't touch 
it," said another. 

"Scared, that's what you are," Tom suggested. 

"P'raps I am — and p'raps you'd 've been scared last 
night if you 'adn't been so far gone." 

"Well, it didn't do nothin' to me when I'd had a few," 
argued Tom, "so why should it now?" 

His words were confident enough, but I could feel a 
trepidation in his mind. 

"It's your own funeral,"* said the other. "Don't say 
afterwards that I didn't warn you." 

I could hear the rest of them retire to what they con- 
sidered a safe distance. Tom approached, making a show 
of courage with his words. 

"Of course I'm goin' to let it out. What's more, I'm 
takin' it to a place I know of — it ought to be worth a 
bit." 

"You'll never. . . ." 

"Oh, won't I?" 

He rattled open the door and addressed me in a fierce 
voice which masked a threatening panic. 

"Come on," he ordered, "out of it." 

He almost turned to run as he saw me rise, but man- 
aged to master the impulse with an effort. Outwardly 
calm, he led the way to one of those machines which use 
the hard tracks, opened a rear door and pointed inside. 

"In you get," he said. 

I doubt if ever a man was more relieved and surprised 
than he, when I did so. 



46 



AMAZING STORIES 



With a grin o£ triumph he turned around, gave a 
mocking sweep with his cap to the rest, and climbed into 
the front seat. 

My last sight as we roared away was of a crowd of 
open mouthed men. 

The sun was high when we reached our destination. 
The limitations of the machine were such that we had 
been delayed more than once to replenish fuel and water 
before we stopped, at last, in front of large gates set 
in a wooden fence. 

Over the top could be seen the upper parts of pieces 
of white cloth tightly stretched over poles and decorated 
by further pieces of colored cloth flapping in the wind. 
I had by this time given up the attempt to guess the 
purposes of third planet constructions, such incredible 
things managed to exist on this primitive world that it 
was simpler to wait and find out. 

From behind the fence a rhythmical braying noise per- 
sisted, then there came the sound of a man's voice shout- 
ing above the din: 

"What do you want — main entrance is round the 
other side." 

"Where's the boss?" called Tom. "I got something 
for him." 

The doors opened to allow us to enter. 

"Over there in his office," said the man, jerking a 
thumb over his shoulder. 

As we approached I could see that the third planet 
mania for wheels had led them even to mount the "office'* 
tints. 

Tom entered and reappeared shortly, accompanied 
by another man. 

"There it is," he said, pointing to me, "and there ain't 
another like it nowhere. The only all-metal animal 
in the world — how'U that look on the posters?" 

The other regarded me with no enthusiasm in his eyes 
and a deal of disbelief in his mind. 

"That long box thing?" he inquired. 

"Sure, 'that box thing.* Here, you," he added to me, 
"get out of it." 

Both retreated a step as I advanced, the new man 
looked apprehensively at my fore-rods. 

"You're sure it's safe?" he asked nervously. 

"Safe?" said Tom. "'Course it's safe." 

To prove it he came across and patted my case. 

"I'm offering you the biggest noise in the show busi- 
ness. It's worth ten times what I'm asking for it — I 
tell you, there ain't another one in the world." 

"Well, I ain't heard of another," admitted the show- 
man grudgingly. "Where'd you get it?" 

"Made it," said Tom blandly. "Spare time." 

The man continued to regard me with little enthu- 
siasm. 

"Can it do anything?" he asked at last. 

"Can it — ?" began Tom indignantly. "Here you," 
he added, "fetch that lump of wood." 

When I brought it, the other looked a trifle less doubt- 
ful. 

"What's inside it?" he demanded. 

"Secrets," said Tom shortly. 

"Well, it's got to stop bein' a secret before I buy it. 
What sort of a fool do you take me for? Let's have 
a look at the thing's innards." 

"No," said Tom, sending a nervous look sideways at 
me. "Either you take it or leave it." 

"Ho. so that's your little game, is it? I'm to be the 



sucker who buys the thing and then finds the kid inside, 
workin' it. It wouldn't surprise me to find that the 
police'd like to know about this." 

"There ain't no kid inside," denied Tom, "it's just 
— just secret works. That's what it is." 

"I'll believe you when I see." 

Tom waited a moment before he answered. 

"All right," he said desperately, "we'll get the blasted 
Hd off of it. . . . Here, hey, come back you," 

The last was a shout to me but I gave it no notice. 
It was one thing to observe the curious ways of these 
humans, but it was quite a different matter to let them 
pry into my machinery. The clumsiness of such as Tom 
was capable of damaging my arrangements seriously. 

"Stop it," bawled Tom, behind me. 

A man in my path landed a futile blow on my body 
case as I swept him aside. Before me was the biggest 
of all the cloth covered erections. 

"Here," I thought, "there will be plenty of room to 
hide." 

I was wrong. Inside, in a circular space, stood a line 
of four footed animals. They were unlike the others I 
had met, in that they had no spikes on their heads and 
were of a much slenderer build, but they were just as 
primitive. All around, in tier upon tier of rings, sat 
hundreds of human beings. 

Just a glimpse, I had, and then the animals saw me. 
They bolted in all directions and shouts of terror arose 
from the crowd. 

I don't remember clearly what happened to me, but 
somewhere and somehow in the confusion which fol- 
lowed I found Tom in the act of starting his car. His 
first glance at me was one of pure alarm, then he seemed 
to think better of it. 

"Get in," he snapped, "we've got to get clear of this 
somehow — and quick." 

Although I could make far better speed than that pre- 
posterous machine, it seemed better to accompany him 
than to wander aimlessly. 

The Crash 

SADLY, that night I gazed up at the red, fourth 
planet. 
There rolled a world which I could understand, 
but here, all around me, was chaos, incredible, unreason- 
ing madness. 

With me, in the machine, sat three friends of Toirj's 
whom he had picked up at the last town, and Tom him- 
self who was steering the contraption. I shut my plate 
off from their thoughts and considered the day I had 
spent. 

Once he was assured that we were free from pursuit, 
Tom had said to himself: 

"Well, I guess that deserves a drink." 

Then he stopped on a part of the hard strip which 
was bordered by a row of artificial caves. 

Continually, as the day wore on, he led me past gaping 
crowds into places where every man held a glass of col- 
ored liquid. Strange liquids they were, although men 
do not value water on the third planet. And each time 
he proudly showed me to his friends in these places, he 
came to believe more firmly that he had created me. 

Towards sunset something seemed to go seriously 
wrong with his machinery. He leaned heavily upon me 
for support and his voice became as uncertain as his 
thoughts were jumbled. 



THE LOST MACHINE 



47 



"Anybody comin' my way?" he had inquired at last 
and at that invitation the other three men had joined 
us. 

The machine seemed to have become as queer as the 
men. In the morning it had held a straight line, but now 
it swayed from side to side, sometimes as though it 
would leave the track. Each time it just avoided the 
edge, all four men would break off their continuous wail- 
ing sounds to laugh senselessly and loudly. 

It was while I struggled to find some meaning in all 
this madness that the disaster occurred. 

Another machine appeared ahead. Its lights showed 
its approach and ours must have been as plain. Then 
an astounding thing happened. Instead of avoiding one 
another as would two intelligent machines, the two lum- 
bering masses charged blindly together. Truly this was 
an insane world. 

There came a rending smash. Our machine toppled 
over on its side. The other left the hard strip, struck 
one of the growths at the side of the road and burst 
into naked flames. 

None of the four men seemed more than a little dazed. 
As one of them scrambled free, he pointed to the blaze. 

"Thash good bonfire," he said. "Jolly good bonfire. 
Wonder if anybody'sh inshide?" 

They all reeled over to examine the wreck while I, 
forgotten, waited for the next imbecility to occur on this 
nightmare world. 

"It'sh a girl," said Tom's voice. 

One of the others nodded solemnly. 

"I think you're right," he agreed with difficult dignity. 

After an interval, there came the girl's voice. 

"But what shall I do? I'm miles from home." 

" 'S'all righ'," said Tom. "Quite all righ'. You 
come along with me. Nishe fellow I am." 

I could read the intention behind his words— so could 
the girl. 

There was the sound o£ a scuffle. 

"No, you don't, my beauty. No runnm* away. Dan- 
gerouSfi for li'l girlsh— 'lone in the dark." 

She started to scream, but a hand quickly stifled the 
sound. 

I caught the upsurge of terror in her mind and at that 
moment I knew her. 

The girl whose machine I had mended— who had been 
grateful. 

In a flash I was amongst them. Three of the men 
started back in alarm, but not Tom. He was contemptu- 
ous of me because I had obeyed him. He lifted a heavy 
boot to send it crashing at my lens. Human movement 
is slow: before his leg had completed the back swing, 
I had caught it and whirled him away. The rest started 
f utilely to close in on me. 

I picked the girl up in my fore-rods and raced away 
into the darkness out of their sight. 



Discouragement 

AT first she was bewildered and not a little fright- 
ened, though our first meeting must have shown 
■ that I intended no harm. 

Gently I placed her on top of my case-work and, hold- 
ing her there with my fore-rods, set off in the direction 
of her journey. She was hurt, blood was pouring down 
her right arm. 

We made the best speed my eight legs could take us. 
I was afraid lest from lack of blood her mind might go 
blank and fail to direct me. At length it did. Her mental 
vibrations had been growing fainter and fainter until 
they ceased altogether. But she had been thinking ahead 
of us, picturing the way we should go, and I had read 
her mind. 

At last, confronted by a closed door she had shown me, 
I pushed it down and held her out on my fore-rods to her 
father. 

"J°an . . . ?" he said, and for the moment seemed un- 
surprised at me — the only third planet man who ever 
was. Not until he had dressed his daughter's wounds 
and roused her to consciousness did he even look at me 
again. 

There is little more. They have been kind, those two. 
They have tried to comprehend, though they cannot. He 
once removed a piece of my casing — I allowed him to do 
so, for he was intelligent — but he did not understand. I 
could feel him mentally trying to classify my structure 
among electrically operated devices — the highest form of 
power known to him, but still too primitive. 

This whole world is too primitive. It does not even 
know the metal of which I am made. I am a freak ... a 
curiosity outside comprehension. 

These men long to know how I was built; I can read 
in their minds that they want to copy me. There is hope 
for them : some day, perhaps, they will have real ma- 
chines of their own. . . . But not through my help will 
they build them, nothing of me shall go to the making of 
them. 

... I know what it is to be an intelligent machine in a 
world of madness. . . . 



The doctor looked up as he turned the last page. 

"And so," he said, "it dissolved itself with my acids." 

He walked slowly over to the window and gazed up to 
Mars, swimming serenely among a myriad stars. 

"I wonder," he murmured, "I wonder." 

He handed the typewritten sheets back to his daughter. 

"Joan, my dear, I think it would be wisest to burn 
them. We have no desire to be certified." 

Joan nodded. 

"As you prefer, father," she agreed. 

The papers curled, flared and blackened on the coals 
—but Joan kept a copy. 



The End 



Watch for the Spring Edition 

"Amazing Stories Quarterly" 

On Sale at Alt Newsstands— April 20th 



Cosmic 

Steeple-Chase 



By Robert A. Wait 

Author of "Clavilux," etc. 



7N our own little world we are doing pretty well. If progress was not par- 
ticularly rapid at the beginning of life — as far as we know — civilization, it 
seems to us, has more than justified its existence within the last century — mechan- 
ically speaking. But what if there is a race of intelligent beings somewhere in 
the universe to whom we might well seem like a lot of groping, ignorant chil- 
dren? Here's what an astronomer thinks about such a possibility. 

Illustrated by MOREY 



CHAPTER I 

JOHN BALDWIN stretched his long lank form 
and arose from the easy chair. His book fell to 
the floor. 
"What you readin'?" 
His wife was sewing on little John's much torn 
and worn breeches. 
"Book on astronomy," answered Big John. "Very in- 
teresting. Tells all about the planets and stars and 
things called nebulae, and what inconceivable distances 
there are between us and the stars we see each night. 
Where's Alice?" 
"Abed and asleep an hour ago." 
"Alice'd be interested in this. Wasn't her Professor 
Jameson quite a bug on stars?" 

Pie in one hand and with the other jingling small 
change in his pocket, the tall man passed out into the 
backyard to gaze at the stars about which he had been 
reading. The heavens shone with points of light ; mil- 
lions of them perhaps. The book had said that some 
of them were billions of miles away. Even the closest 
was too far even to be reached during a lifetime, riding 
in the swiftest airplane. Out in the back lot where the 
horses were pastured the big pond reflected many o,f the 
low-hung gorgeous diamonds of light. Shaking his head 
as though, to give it up, the gaunt man turned to go 
in to bed. 

Suddenly a flare from above lighted the land about. 
John Baldwin wheeled and gazed in terrified awe at what 
he saw. High above, nearly at the zenith, was a great ball 



of blue-white light. From it streamed a trail of fire that 
appeared to extend back to the stars from whence it 
seemed to come. More brilliant it flared, changing to a 
blinding, dazzling mass of light which bore down on the 
little farm as a great demon intent on destruction. A 
shrill whistling sound filled the air and the terrified far- 
mer screamed in horror as he saw his home and family 
directly beneath this oncoming doom. 

With a terrific crash, the descending firebrand struck 
the earth, right in the center of the big pond. A mighty 
wave splashed into the air as spray. A hiss of steam and 
a detonation, as of a siege mortar, followed. The earth 
shook, the buildings rocked, and the horses and cattle 
stampede, as the pond waters struck the white hot object 
in their center time after time, blown back at each on- 
rush by the great steam cushion formed at contact. 
Vapor arose and filled the air. A drizzle of moisture 
began to fall as the vaporized water struck the cooler 
air around, and the pond waters churned and boiled. 

"John! John!" Mrs. Baldwin called in a voice which 
trembled and shook. 

"I'm all right, dear," called the farmer. "Please bring 
our big electric torch and we'll see what damage has been 
done. Looks like one of Alice's professor's pets has 
settled on us of a sudden." 

Examination showed little except that the stock was 
uninjured except for a calf or ..wo scaled by flying hot 
water at the contact of the meteorite with the pond. 

"Well, no good staying up tonight. No one is going 
to steal it, that's sure. Let's go to bed and see it in the 
morning when it's cooled off." - 




Suddenly a small 
section of the 
sphere swung inward on 
hinge, and from within, a 
small sphere floated out, fol- 
lowed by five more. . . . 



50 



AMAZING STORIES 



CHAPTER II 

A LICE awoke at dawn. As her eyes drank in the 
l\ glory of the dawn spreading over the neat farm, 
•*■ ■*■ they rested on the stock that was her father's 
pride. How peculiar — they were all crowded to the 
north fence, whereas they were usually over at the pond 
this time of day. With eyes following mind to the pond, 
she started in genuine surprise. Pond there was none '. 
More startling than that, however, was a gigantic shape 
in the center of the pond bed. Glittering and flashing 
in the sunlight, slowly revolving on a central shaft was 
a cylinder of burnished metal fully fifty feet high. Here 
was a mystery to solve! 

"Dad! Dad! What is it?" 

Big John was walking slowly around the big machine 
— for machine it surely was. No accident could produce 
a perfect pyramid, twelve sided and tapered beautifully 
from each end of the cylinder to its middle. 

"Well, daughter, looks as though one of your Pro- 
fessor Jameson's pets had visited us. The sides are all 
so smooth and slick that I can't imagine where on earth 
it could have been made and much less who could be 
shooting such things about." 

"Dad, I don't believe you are really that dumb. You 
say it was very hot when it struck. Honestly, Dad, is 
there anything to conclude except that it has been sent 
here from off the earth, either by design or by accident? 
Now you stay here and I'll get my note book. I want 
you to make written notes of all that goes on while I 
locate Dr, Jameson — he must not miss this." 

She disappeared briefly into the house and returned 
with note book and pencil. 

"There, Dad, I'll be back in an hour." 



By three o'clock Dr. Jameson was on the farm and 
with Alice and Big John was hard at it to solve the prob- 
lem of the visiting metal stranger. 

"Do you believe it has come from without our earth's 
atmosphere, Doctor?" asked Alice. "I can't recognize 
the metal and the construction of the cylinder looks too 
perfect." 

"I should say," replied the professor, "that this 
cylinder has been sent here by design from some place 
outside our atmosphere. Offhand, I should say it has 
come an enormously long distance. But we should know 
soon for, if you'll observe, the cylinder is becoming more 
active." 

Sure enough the cylinder was opening up. As the two 
halves of the cylinder separated, an inner wall appeared. 
It was much the same as the outer shell except that it 
was perforated at regular intervals about the circum- 
ference. 

Without any warning, a violent hoot, followed by a 
screaming wail, issued from the cylinder at the perfo- 
ration point. 

"B-etter get away," said Professor Jameson. "The 
near future will show what type of intelligence made 
that and what type of being it expected to find on this 
earth." 

As the three hastily descended to the ground, the wail 
was repeated, much louder this time. 
t"Run !" shouted Big John. "Run for the house !" 
'The sides of the cylinder were pouring out a dense 
black cloud from the perforations. This rose immedi- 



ately toward the heavens and spread into a giant plume. 
The great signal column floated slowly up. Another 
issued with a loud blowing noise. Ten times it was re- 
peated. Then the hooting began again. Then hoots 
followed by screeches that fairly split the eardrums. 
.Then again the signal cjouds. 

No further movement of any kind was observed about 
the cylinder until after dusk; light was fading fast from 
the sky and still no movement or sound about the big 
cylinder. Finally Alice squealed in delight as the cyl- 
inder came to life. The aperture from which the dark 
smoke had appeared was streaming out a golden rain 
accompanied by luminous vapors — a vivid pink which 
rolled out and up, billowing and massing as it rose high 
into the heavens. Suddenly there was complete dark- 
ness ; even the vapor glow was quenched. From out the 
blackness a blinding flash split the darkness and a second 
later the three observers were literally blown to earth by 
a concussion that made all deaf for a full minute. Again 
complete blackness save for the points of stars. 

"Wow! Wasn't that an ear splitter?" said Big John. 

At this moment the next "spasm" began, and the trio 
watched with wonder the issuance of the pink vapor, the 
billowing, and when the darkness came, they all threw 
themselves flat and placed hands over their ears. An- 
other terrific explosion — then silence and darkness. 

"How long do you believe these signals will last?" Big 
John asked his question in a rather worried tone of 
voice. 

"Signals will continue at more or less regular inter- 
vals for weeks unless we can find a way to stop them. 
It would seem reasonable to expect some sort of method 
of stopping them to be provided by the being who de- 
signed that cylinder. We'll go to bed now and tomorrow 
we may be able to find a way to stop the signals and 
get inside." 

CHAPTER III 

DAWN found the doctor abroad and active. At 
sunrise Big John was at his side. After con- 
siderable experimentation, the exposed shell of 
the cylinder yielded to a pry bar, and a large section of 
the cylinder flew off, revealing a dim interior. The three 
investigators climbed in and gazed about them. Evenly 
distributed about the small room were beings lying as 
though dead. The general appearance of each was that 
of a quadruped, in size about as large as a big bulldog. 
The rest of the body was perfectly smooth and nearly 
the shape of an egg. 

To one side of the small circular room Jameson found 
a metal box closed by a common hasp type of fastening. 
This he quickly opened. Inside was a large sheaf of a 
material that resembled paper but was certainly a su- 
perior material. With the assistance of Big John, the 
box and sheaf were wrenched loose from the small shelf 
to which they had been fastened. Unfolding the sheaf 
of opaque, yet unbelievably thin sheets of paper-like 
material, they gazed with utter awe upon the most beau- 
tiful panorama photograph in colors that man could 
imagine. Across the top of the picture was a long set 
of characters — very evidently writing of some sort. 

Passing over the photo to the rest of the manuscript, 
the three people attempted to make something of the 
beautifully executed figures they found there. 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



51" 



"Obviously this is writing, but of what kind we can 
only guess. The code used is extremely simple. I sin- 
cerely doubt if we are any of us intelligent enough to 
decode that." 

They turned page after page of the manuscript and to 
their delight found nearly every page bore a photograph 
with lines of the hieroglyphics below it, evidently in ex- 
planation and discussion of the photographic view. One 
photo showed what was evidently an evening scene. 
Strangely enough there were three suns setting along the 
horizon. Three suns should indicate but one thing: the 
planet on which the photos were made was somewhere 
out in space, far from our own solar system. 

"Now for the rest of this treasure house," said Dr. 
Jameson, laying down the manuscript. "We'll find 
many interesting things if I'm not mistaken. Let's hope 
they are not all as grotesque and horrifying as the display 
here on the floor." 

The party went slowly down into the cylinder where 
they found much of importance showing the types of 
life, models of machinery, and pictures of scenes from 
the land from which the cylinder had come. 

Progressing on to the room above the industrial dis- 
play, the three humans found in it a veritable wealth of 
articles and demonstrations which depicted the art, liter- 
ature, science, and research of the beings who lived on 
this far away planet. 

Suddenly he pointed in great excitement at the sketch- 
ings before him. 

"Friends, you are looking at the very first navigation 
map of the universe that earth beings ever saw ! This 
is a map showing the position in space of the more im- 
portant star groups and certain centers where planets 
may be found about some of the bigger, older stars. 
Note this grouping, the lines that represent flight, and 
this other group over here!" 

Scarcely able to contain his enthusiasm, the professor 
searched further, while Alice and her Dad scanned the 
map. To the upper left was a grouping of stars, evi- 
dently seven of them in a group. Down at the lower 
edge was a set of stars which could be recognized only as 
one group — that commonly known as the Big Dipper. 
True to our view of stars, the two outer stars in the cup 
of the dipper formed a nearly direct line toward a single 
brilliant star on the map located about one-third the way 
from the left edge of the map. This star was a 
brilliant red color with a few rays about it. Easily 
recognized about this were a few less brilliant stars 
arranged in the form of the familiar Little Bear. About 
the big, bright, red star picture were arranged ten 
small dots, all at different positions. From the fifth dot 
out from the red star was a line which streamed across 
the pictured space in a magnificent curve terminating 
at one of nine dots surrounding a rather small yellow- 
ish spot which evidently was a star. 

"Let me show you," said Dr. Jameson. "Here we are 
at the left You recognize the Great Bear or Big Dipper. 
It, of course, points to the North Star, Polaris, with two 
of its stars. Polaris is part of the Little Bear which we 
see represented by those stars about Polaris. Over here 
you see the tiny yellow star surrounded by its nine dots. 
Alice, if you can't deduce the meaning of that from the 
rest of the constellations, I fear your courses with me 
were lost motion and energy. What puny little star do 
you think that is ?" 

"Why, Dr. Jameson, it's our own tiny old Sol, and the 



dots are its nine children, the planets. Furthermore, the 
line sweeping across the space shown here is supposed to 
represent the path of this cylinder in which we stand, 
leading us to infer that this cylinder was made and pro- 
jected from the fifth planet of a planetary system about 
Polaris. 

"Now, Dad, what you don't know is that Polaris is 407 
trillion miles from us and that therefore its light requires 
some 69 years to reach us. According to calculation, this 
cylinder could have been made fairly recently, as we do 
not believe that speed of material objects in space is 
limited except by the time required to acquire velocity, 
or should I say to exercise acceleration. Of course, light 
travels rapidly, but even light is slow compared to what 
speed might be attained by a properly attracted or pro- 
pelled object which traveled freely in space." 

"Well," gasped the professor, "that is exactly what I 
deduced. 

"Let's go and get some lunch, though. We can each 
take an armload of these manuscripts and this map and 
work on them outside. We have an excellent start with 
this map and the labels on some of these things we 
recognize." 

CHAPTER IV 

EAGER hands opened the door of his car as 
Jameson pulled up with a swirl at the doorstep of 
John Baldwin's modest home. 

"Harry — I — I mean Professor Jameson! I'm so glad 
to see you !" 

Alice became confused and glanced about to see if any- 
one had heard her blunder. 

"I can't tell you how delighted I am to be here, Alice! 
And do call me Harry." 

"Are you planning to stay indefinitely?" Alice 
laughed as she indicated a large Gladstone that the pro- 
fessor was hauling out of the tonneau of his car. 

"This, young lady, contains the result of three months' 
study and travel. In *his bag is more new knowledge 
than you can find in a score of encyclopedias." 

"Are the manuscripts finished ? How did you do it all 
in this short time? But do come in." 

"Yes, I should say come in, young fellow. Give me 
that mysterious bag and follow my young imp, Alice, to 
your room. We'll have supper as soon as you wash and 
brush up a bit." 

John Baldwin, known popularly as Big John, pushed 
the two young people ahead of him into the house, de- 
posited the heavy traveling bag in the hallway, and 
watched with evident pleasure while Alice led the way 
upstairs to Jameson's room. 

Seated at the table at the close of the delicious supper, 
the group of people began to edge the conversation 
around to include queries about the great piece of news 
that they all knew Jameson had brought. 

"To reiterate a bit," began Professor Jameson, when 
they had adjourned to the living-room, "We consider our- 
selves fortunate to have translated the written records 
of our visitors. These notebooks are translations of the 
manuscripts. Each represented three months* work." 

He lifted from the group of manuscripts the one they 
had first looked at. In it they found the beautiful color 
photographs which showed orange colored foliage and 
peculiar forms of life on what they had found was the 
fifth planet of a group of ten revolving about the Polaris 
group of suns. 



52 



AMAZING STORIES 



"This contains much that is of interest, but even more 
we find in these other manuscripts. Now, as to the 
general method used in translating or should I say inter- 
preting these. When I left here, I went immediately 
to an old friend of mine whom I knew to be intensely 
in astronomy and who is immensely wealthy. I finally 
prevailed on this Mr. Blake to subsidize a translation of 
these manuscripts. I engaged six assistants and have 
been hard at work since. And so interested in the whole 
proposition has Mr. Blake become that he has placed 
the bulk of his fortune at my disposal as head of a group, 
whose lives will be devoted to the thorough investigation 
of what we find in these manuscripts." 

"I have here a brief outline of the combined trans- 
lations of all these manuscripts," the professor continued 
in his discussions of the summer's work on the manu- 
scripts. "Shall I read it?" 

"Yes, please do, please," Alice begged. 

There followed several hours of reading of the trans- 
lations, discussions of what was read, and study on the 
plans sent for use during the proposed trip to Polaris. 
Complete plans were found for building a space ship 
capable of making the long journey through space to 
Polaris, and with these were whole volumes on the life 
and conditions to be found on Polaris planets. 

At last the final parts of the translations were reached, 
and Jameson's reading concluded. 

" 'We suggest that you collect about you a representa- 
tive group of your best intelligences and interest them in 
this proposed trip. It will likely take the length of ten 
revolutions of your planet about your sun for the entire 
trip. We assure you that you will return to your planet 
and bear with you enough knowledge to make you as 
the gods among your fellow-beings.' 

"That was all we could get clear," Jameson finished 
up, "Fortunately the plans, and directions for the space 
traveler are very plain — many phottJS, diagrams, actual 
pieces of material, and clear cut designs." 

"John! It's one o'clock. I think you all ought to 
come to bed." 

"All right, Flora. We'll quit for tonight. I wonder 
v if I'll see whirling planets and great many-colored balls 
of fire chasing each other through my dreams," con- 
cluded Big John. 

He did. So did Jameson, and Alice. But that wasn't 
all that these two dreamed about. Some way the stars 
were all blue eyed for Jameson, and Alice saw a tall, 
sandy-haired professor striding about on her dream- 
moons. 



I 



CHAPTER V 

WOULD like to see Mr. Blake, please." 

The speaker, a young man, dark in complexion, 
addressed himself to the doorman at the home of 
Jordon Blake. 

"Come in. I will tell Mr. Blake you are here and give 
him your card, sir." 

"Thank you," replied the young man as he went into 
the library. 

Five minutes passed, and at length a voice aroused 
the visitor frofh the deep contemplation of a set of star 
charts on one wall. 

"You are Mr. Allen Bellant, I judge?" the older man 
asked pleasantly of his visitor. 

"Yes, and you are Mr. Blake. I have come to make 



a request of you, Mr. Blake. Will we be quite alone?" 

"Yes, indeed. What can I do for you?" asked Blake 
as he closed the hall doors. 

"I have in the recent past been called in for consulta- 
tion on certain decoding work being done under the 
direction of a Professor Jameson. You know him, I'm 
sure." 

"Yes, indeed, I know Jameson — fine fellow. But just 
what's the connection?" queried Blake. 

"Mr. Blake, I happened to stumble into the entire story 
connected with that decoding work and have at my finger 
tips all the data and information with which to organize 
my own party, build a space ship, and go to Polaris as a 
representative of Earth. It happens that I know you 
have set your heart on being the first of earth-men to 
visit our star neighbors. For this reason alone I think 
you would rather I did not set up my own party and beat 
you to it. My proposition is this you will engage me 
as the official physicist for this proposed trip you are 
backing. Oh, I know all about it — how, you needn't 
know. If you don't see my way, I'll have to get financial 
backing elsewhere and take all the glory of leaving first. 
I understand the plans and principles of the proposed 
space ship better than anyone now connected with it." 

"Young man, do you know that you are trying to 
blackmail me? That doesn't go here — I'll hire whom I 
please for this trip. I don't believe you anyway. The 
plans for our future trip have been locked away in a 
safety vault ever since they were worked out — you are 
bluffing, and anyway, I don't see why I should be bullied 
by the first stranger who happens along." 

"Jordon Blake, I'll ask you to glance at these sheets 
of Van Dyke prints," and he held out a sheaf of plans 
to the older man. 

"Well — what have you to say now?" 

"I — well — damn it, young man, you are plain racket- 
eering — blackmailing. I guess you do have the dope on 
the space ship, but I shall expose you — have you arrested 
and put in prison for blackmail. My word is law in this 
vicinity," Blake sputtered, growing excited. 

"My dear sir, let's not get excited. Why use that 
ugly term, blackmail ? I am merely making you what I 
feel is a very fair proposition. I am offering you silence 
and assistance in your proposed trip for the mere privi- 
lege of accompanying you on the voyage as physicist. 
f As for your threat of openly condemning me and having 
me arrested, if I were you I'd be careful what I did. 
May I recall to your memory that there is a certain 
colored gentleman hiding in your firewood? I mention 
the name of Worthington. Need I say more?" 

Bellant smiled with a crooked sort of twist to his 
mouth and laughed gently as Blake flushed hotly, then 
went pale. 

"Where did you hear my name associated with that 
of Worthington? It was all a mistake started by a 
malicious lie ! I was perfectly square, and then he lied 
about it all. I had to do it or. lose my entire fortune. 
I tell you I was square. It was all a terrible mistake." 

"The courts would not think it square, should I choose 
to tell what I know. I may find it necessary to publish 
what might rob you of every cent you now have. Of 
course, if you are reasonable, and comply with my very 
modest request that I be engaged as your official physicist 
on the trip to Polaris, I am sure I can forget and let by- 
gones be by-gones." 

"I won't submit to such brow-beating. You can't 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



53 



scare me that way. You've heard some remark dropped 
somewhere and are using it to try to frighten me into 
giving you what you want. No, I'm damned if I'll con- 
sider you at all for the trip." 

Jordon Blake blustered mightily and accompanied his 
outburst with sweeping gestures. 

"Very well," said Bellant quietly. "You are making 
the decision for me. In order to get the financial support 
I need to beat you out to Polaris, I shall have to expose 
your dark past I am afraid — much as I regret it." 

He rose to leave, picking up his hat and cane, and 
passed into the hallway. Blake remained irresolute be- 
side the mantel. Once he started forward, then stepped 
back. 

"I must bid you good evening, Mr. Blake." Bellant 
spoke gravely and disappeared from the library door. 
Blake's voice suddenly came clearly from the library. 

"Bellant ! Wait ! Come back. You win." 

Bellant hesitated a moment, then at a second call from 
Blake, he closed the door and returned to the library. 

"I am glad to see you are reasonable after all, Mr. 
Blake," he said. 

"I'm not reasonable, or I'd throw you out, Bellant. 
However, I believe we can use a man of your wits on 
this trip. You shall be signed up now as our official 
physicist on the trip to Polaris, providing you will sign 
a statement that you know absolutely nothing about my 
private affairs. Here is paper and my pen. Write out 
our contract. You will include the statement I have men- 
tioned. What salary do you want?" 

"All I ask is that you completely furnish a private 
laboratory aboard this space ship in accord with my di- 
rections. This is to be entirely secret, and you will have 
to agree to know absolutely nothing about it — you 
scarcely know me and engaged me because of my reputa- 
tion. Do you understand? You must not interfere in 
any way with experiments I may wish to perform. Do 
you agree? Very well, 111 put it all in the contract." 

Half an hour later the two men parted at the door, 
apparently good friends. 

"I am sure we will get along famously on our coming 
voyage," said Bellant. "Now that we thoroughly under- 
stand each other," he added as a parting shot, and turn- 
ing on his heel got into his car and drove off. 

CHAPTER VI 

THE next morning, about nine o'clock, a young man 
called at the farm and asked to see Jameson. 
It was Alice who met him and informed him that 
Jameson would be back from town shortly. In the 
meantime it would be her pleasure to entertain a friend 
of Professor Jameson. 

"My name is Allen Bellant," the caller told her. 

"I am Alice Baldwin. I was a student under Profes- 
sor Jameson last year in college. I studied astronomy in 
his classes." 

"I guess you are interested in the interstellar visitor 
you had last spring then," the visitor suggested. "That 
cylinder is my reason for coming, although I see now I 
didn't know what attractions there were up here," he 
continued, looking boldly at the girl. 

Alice flushed and laughed confusedly. She was not 
sure she liked this young fellow — yet he was young and 
appeared to be interesting. 

"Mayn't I show you about the farm a little?" the girl 



suggested, and presently the two of them were wander- 
ing from meadow to woodland, from pasture land to the 
barnyard, laughing and talking. 

Shortly Harry Jameson drove up, parked his car, and 
went into the house. A little later he came out, looked 
about for Alice and, seeing her with a young man, de- 
cided not to interrupt. As he was turning to sit down 
on the porch, Alice saw him and immediately brought 
Bellant to the house. 

"Professor Jameson, this is Mr. Bellant, a friend of 
yours. I have been entertaining him while he awaited 
your return from town." 

"Bellant! Of course I know him. He was a great 
aid in helping us over certain technical points in decod- 
ing of the plans we looked at last night." 

Jameson welcomed Bellant warmly and asked what 
brought him this far from his home. 

Explanations followed and Bellant gave Jameson a let- 
ter of introduction and instruction from Jordan Blake 
in which the financier asked that Bellant be given all de- 
tails as he was to accompany the party on the Polaris 
trip. Since Bellant had an exceptionally good reputation 
as a physicist, Jameson was very pleased with the pros- 
pect. Had he known to what direction Bellant's atten- 
tion was going to turn during this proposed trip, he 
would never have consented to go ahead with the plans. 
Even during the examination of the cylinder and in the 
long discussion in the afternoon, Harry found much 
amusement in the rather open admiration Bellant showed 
Alice, sometimes to the girl's confusion. Several times 
Jameson found Bellant's mind and eyes centered on Alice 
at the end of a long explanation of some parts of the 
plans for the ship and trip. 

That evening Beliant proposed that the whole family 
go into town to see a movie. After much discussion. 
the family decided that just Alice, Harry, and Bellant 
should go, and that the rest would stay at home this time. 
It was finally so arranged, and the trio went off to tbi 
small city soon after the evening dinner. 

After the show they visited a confectioner's for a dish 
of ice cream where Bellant monopolized the attention ol 
Alice and in every way held the center of the girl's in- 
terest. 

Jameson pondered: was he, he wondered quite sud- 
denly, really jealous? Such a thought had never entered 
his head before, but as the idea filtered in and about his 
mind, he became suddenly conscious that he felt a 
genuine affection for this student he had taught. She 
had flowered out so much during the summer — had liter- 
ally grown up from a college girl to a young woman. 

At return to the farm, Jameson agreed to get together 
a set of data for Bellant to take with him that evening 
on his return home. In the meantime, Bellant said he 
and Alice would stroll about the yard in the moonlight. 
Jameson hurried through the drawings and notes he was 
copying for Bellant and in half an hour went outside in 
search of the couple. 

He called softly, but had no reply. A thorough search 
of the yard disclosed no sign of the two, and Harry was 
at a loss as to where to find them. Suddenly he heard 
a voice raised in mild protest. It was Alice speaking. 

"Please don't; Mr. Bellant!" 

The voice came from the summer house down the lane 
toward the wooded part of the farm. Again the protest 
came. 

"I asked you to stop." 



54 



AMAZING STORIES 



''But I love you, girl," Jameson heard Eellant say in a 
very low voice. 

"Nonsense!" replied Alice. "You've only just met 
tne. Anyway, I am not sure I like you — I know I shall 
not if you insist on annoying me." 

Silence ensued, and Harry debated whether he should 
intrude or simply wait for them to return from the sum- 
mer house. The final outcry decided him. 

"Allen Bellant! If you touch me again, I shall go in 
and leave you !" 

Harry was off like a streak. The girl was being an- 
noyed, and Harry was certain now that his interest in 
Alice was at least more than casual. As Jameson arrived 
at the summer house where the moonlight filtered 
through in black lace and silver, Bellant stepped up to 
Alice, took her in his arms and attempted to kiss her. 

"Mr. Bellant!" Alice cried in alarm, and then as if in 
appeal and pleading to a protector, she called aloud, 
"Harry! Harry!" 

With an exaltation of soul and a thrill of greater joy 
than he had ever known before, Jameson covered the dis- 
tance between them in a bound, grasped Bellant by the 
shoulder, and whirled him back against the railing with 
a crash. The physicist struck the low seat, tripped, and 
plunged headlong over the side to the grass below. 

"Oh, thank you, Harry," the girl cried softly as Jame- 
son gathered her into one quick embrace. Unfortunately 
Bellant had picked himself up just in time to see the two 
in each other's arms. 

"So that's it, is it?" he half sneered. "Well, of course, 
I didn't know I was trespassing. I'm sorry if I caused 
you any worry, old man, but I completely lost my head. 
Too much moonlight I guess." 

"Your drawings and data are in your car, Bellant. 
I'd rather not talk to you now. You'd better go. I will 
look you up later." 

Jameson spoke in a restrained voice, obviously holding 
himself in leash only by great effort. 

"All right, I'll go. Don't forget though, I'm going 
on that trip to Polaris with you. I rather suspect Miss 
Baldwin plans to go, too, doesn't she?" 

With a queer little laugh Bellant left them, and they 
heard him slam his car door. 

The man and woman stood quietly, side by side, while 
Bellant made his retreat. Then as the car slipped away 
into the distance, Harry turned to the girl and started 
to speak. 

"No, let's go in — not tonight. I — I don't trust myself 
now. You were wonderful, and I want to think about 
it. I — I just called for you as if you belonged to me, 
didn't I ?" 

As he started to speak again, Alice hushed him a sec- 
ond time. 

"No — not tonight. We are not ourselves right now. 
I can't trust myself to judge sanely now. I'm too happy, 
yet a little frightened, too. Take me in, Harry." 

It was well past midnight when Jameson arose from 
his lonely seat on the porch and made his way to bed, 
calmed at last, and infinitely happy. 

CHAPTER VII 

JUST a year and a day had passed since the arrival 
of the cylinder from Polaris. During that time the 
complete translation of the manuscript had been 
made and directions for a space ship followed to com- 
pletion. 



The last potato had been stowed away in the food 
lockers. Ten years supply of condensed milk was aboard. 
Refrigerating rooms held hundreds of whole animals 
for fresh meat supply. Thousands of small packages of 
spices, teas, coffees, and condiments were stowed away 
below. The enormous enameled water tank had been 
filled, and the water purifiers and recoverers were in 
place for work. Not a molecule of water should escape 
from this ship once abroad in space. In the storerooms 
were myriads of blocks of chocolate and various con- 
centrated foods. Huge slabs of compressed dehydrated 
vegetables were stacked aside. Tons of dried fruits and 
hundreds of cases of canned fruits filled one section. 
Barrels of lime juice occupied one refrigeration room. 
Another was stacked with several tons of butter and 
margarine. Each compartment was crammed to the 
limit. Everything that could possibly be needed was 
provided, and a space found for it in this big ship which 
was soon to sail the seas of space. 

The night of June 21st was clear and cloudless. About 
the completed ship were hundreds of tents. This was 
the big night, and many people were there to witness 
the take-off of the ship. Many had come to witness what 
they termed "the big flop." They did not believe that 
the ship would actually "fly." Others were there to see 
the greatest event in history take place. A delegation of 
scientists from foreign nations arrived about ten o'clock. 

The members of the expedition or Interstellar League 
were all established in their apartments. All told, there 
were twenty-six scientists ; three ladies, including Alice 
Baldwin and two of the wives of the scientists. Besides 
these there was a cook, two maids, and a steward. The 
time of departure had been set for midnight, and every- 
one was excited. Even staid and elderly professors 
paced the floor and nervously wished the ship was on 
her way. Relatives of the passengers were saying their 
goodbyes, and wives were departing in tears as they left 
their husbands for at least ten years — many firmly be- 
lieved, forever. John Baldwin and his wife were visit- 
ing calmly with Jameson and their daughter Alice. To 
them the greatest blow would come when the huge ship 
actually rose from the ground into space. 

Outside flares lighted the glade about the traveler 
and sightseers sat patiently about waiting the exciting 
event soon to take place. Some had built camp fires and 
large shadows danced across the tree tops at the edge of 
the cleared space in the woods. Everyone became more 
restless as the time eased up toward midnight. 
• At eleven fifty all but passengers were ordered off the 
ship. At eleven fifty-five the doors swung into place and 
were sealed — no one knew for how long. The oxygen 
apparatus was started and the purifiers started their 
long grind of work. The port windows showed a glow 
of light from within, and at one side where a small bulge 
occurred in the side of the ship, the astronomical instru- 
ments were being trained on Polaris with great care. 

At one minute to twelve at a signal from within the 
ship, John Baldwin threw a switch on a nearby tree 
which fired ten cannons that shot skyward flaring pro- 
jectiles. Long trails of green, red, blue, and golden rain 
fell away behind these signals. The whole countryside 
for a hundred miles was watching for this — telegraph 
wires sang and radios flashed'the news abroad. It meant 
the departure of the Earth for Polaris! 

Thirty seconds left! Big John stepped under the ship 
to the base, ignited a master fuse which led to six enor- 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



55 



mous flares of magnesium metal on the base. These 
would be visible for hundreds of miles as the ship 
streaked out into space. 

Ten seconds ! A shrill whistle split the air, and every- 
one in the glade started back as close to the edge of the 
woods as possible. 

Two seconds yet! A salute of three bombs shot up 
into the air and exploded with terrific concussions on the 
exact stroke of midnight, and on the second the space 
ship swayed slightly, slowly rose like a balloon, and ever 
gaining speed, fled out and up toward the pole star, its 
flares lighting the whole land about. 

As it shot up and away, a great shout arose from the 
assembled group. Colored lights sprayed a rain of fire 
and balls of red and green from the edges of the ether 
ship that flashed out after the stars. The whole affair 
seemed a mass of colored lights and fire. This was the 
greatest celebration man had known for centuries — the 
fences of space were being hurdled and man rode the 
steed that raced in the steeple-chase! 

John Baldwin sobbed aloud and turned to his wife. 
Her eyes were full of tears, but she uttered no sound. 
Out into eternity two of their dearest and nearest ones 
sailed — pioneers on the cosmic ocean of space! 



H 



CHAPTER VIII 

' OW perfectly absurd," laughed Alice Baldwin 
as she lifted a whole library table on one hand 
and moved it across the side of the room. 
"Whatever can be the explanation of that, Harry? I 
could never lift that table on earth. What changes have 
come over us to so increase my strength?" 

The party composed of some thirty scientists had been 
some hours on the way toward their goal — the star 
Polaris. The large space ship in which Alice and Harry 
stood bore some twenty-eight other souls through the 
cosmic night on toward the Pole star, bound for the fifth 
planet in the system of ten that had been found to. stir- 
round Polaris. 

"Your strength has not increased, dear, except as we 
think in terms of relativity. The gravitational effect of 
earth is no longer felt by the articles in the ship. If it 
were not for the artificial dense body in our base, the 
furniture would all float about the room in response to 
every breeze or air current. If you tried to walk, you 
would find yourself shooting across the room to bang 
into the other wall." 

"I see what you mean, but can't you explain it a little 
more fully? I'm dumb, I guess." 

"Dearest, you don't need to be bothered with any 
more explanations. Suffice it to say that the pedestal 
of this ship is loaded with a close relative of neutronium, 
that mythical element made of condensed protons and 
electrons. The gravity effected thereby, or the space 
curving, is about half as great as earth itself. But let's 
forget all that and dream of the future. It seems a long 
time — ten years — till we can be together for always. But 
mark my words, before you know it, we'll have been 
on our journey for a year." 

"What do you mean, Harry ?'* 

Jordan Blake entered the room at that moment and 
paused to listen to what Harry had to say. 

"According to our watches and the ship's log, about 
three terrestrial years will elapse before we set foot on 
land again— if we don't get annihilated between times. 



However, you'll never believe it. You see, we wont 
eat more than once in three days. With gravity halved 
and traveling without any real time unit to observe but 
our watches, time becomes only relative. Of course, as 
we lose track of time (our watches will soon get out of 
adjustment) we do not do so many things nor do out 
bodies need to function at such a speed as formerly — 
result: we do not grow old so rapidly! The ten yean 
of time to be consumed in the journey, earthly speaking, 
will cause a change of only about five years in those 
aboard this ship. Seems incredible, but you'll find U 
true. Now off to rest, Alice — one tires even out in 
space." 

"I'm a bit curious about some of the features of our 
trip I never understood." 

Jordan Blake blew a cloud of blue smoke toward the 
lights in the ceiling and continued. 

"From my limited reading on such subjects, I under- 
stood that as a body approaches the speed of light, it 
becomes shorter and shorter in the direction of motion 
until at a speed of 160,000 miles a second, it would be 
but half the length it was originally. If it reached the: 
speed of light, it would have become zero in length. Is 
that right?" 

"It is not, in my opinion," answered the young profes- 
sor quickly. "You refer to the Lorenz-Fitzgerald theory, 
of course. We of this cruise have come to regard this 
theory as possible only when applied according to earthly 
standards." 

"You tell us," continued Mr. Blake, "that we will 
cover the distance between earth and Polaris in three 
solar years or less, and in the same breath you state that 
Polaris is 69 light-years from earth. I gather from thai 
we will average twenty-three times the speed of light 
on our trip. Am I right?" 

"You are correct, Mr. Blake. As a matter of fact, 
I see no reason why we could not gain much higher 
speeds than that. However, speed becomes only rela- 
tive to one's capacity for conceiving it in my opinion. 
If one thinks in 'large thoughts,' he should be able t« 
take in the idea of eternally gaining speed. We scientists 
have concluded, after much thought, that we are not 
traveling in ordinary space. Once we reach the speeds 
approaching that of light, we begin to travel in the fourth 
dimension of space, we believe. The laws we so solemn- 
ly pronounced correct as professors of physics and 
mathematics do not seem to hold once we get off the 
earth. It would seem certain that we would be crushed 
by the acceleration of this ship as it rushes faster and 
faster. We are not subject to the same conditions here 
as on earth — thus every molecule of the ship and con- 
tents is 'pulled' equally along so there is no tendency 
for any part to 'flatten out' as we used to believe sudden 
high acceleration would treat organic bodies." 

"Run along, Professor. I'll think it all over. You 
must get your rest because we'll need you at your bea 
on this trip." 

CHAPTER IX 

THE daily routine continued to be kept and as Alice 
had taken on the responsibility of keeping the time 
and calendar for the party, it was she who an- 
nounced finally that they had been on their way some 
two and a half years. Throughout this time the ship had 
hurtled through space at the unimaginable speed of some 
five million miles a second. 



56 



AMAZING STORIES 



The mathematician in the party had long ago ceased 
to argue about the speed of the ship. For the first year 
a constant effort had been made to bring theory and fact 
together in figures and formulas showing that the speed 
being attained was theoretically possible. Speeds greater 
than light had always been conceived impossible, yet the 
facts remained that they were making twenty-three times 
the speed of light. The famous theory of Lorenz-Fitz- 
gerald stating that as the speed of a body increased to- 
ward that of light, the body contracted physically in 
the direction of motion, did not seem to hold. After 
much discussion and thought, the entire body of scien- 
tists confirmed the opinion of Jameson that the ship must 
no longer be traveling in regular three dimensional space. 
Whether the machine and its occupants had passed into 
a higher dimension was no longer problematical — it ap- 
peared to be cold fact. In other words, Harry explained 
to Alice, at the speed they had attained, they could no 
longer be bounded by three dimensional space, but had 
become subject to the laws of another dimension, 

The first sign of trouble aboard appeared almost simul- 
taneously with Alice's announcement that only six months 
of earth time remained before the scheduled arrival at 
Erb, the planet for which they were headed. For nearly a 
year the physicist aboard, Allen Bellant, had been paying 
a little too much attention to Alice, in the opinion of 
Harry Jameson. This was not at first annoying, but as 
the attentions became more and more insistent, Alice 
showed great resentment and even spoke to Bellant, 
assuring him that he was wasting his time. Apparently 
this meant nothing to the young scientist for he con- 
tinued his personal favors and even increased his efforts 
to talk to the girl. Admonitions by the older men in the 
party did not deter him and it was only after an open 
breach of faith that Jameson finally forced himself to 
accost the young fellow. _^ 

It was while the greater portion of the ship's popula- 
tion was asleep that the first clash came. Alice had just 
left Harry on watch for other space ships to return to 
her stateroom and was passing up through the darkened 
corridor when Allen Bellant suddenly stepped out from 
behind a pillar and confronted her. 

"Oh !" You startled me so, Mr. Bellant," the girl 
gasped as she struggled to regain her composure. "I 
had no idea anyone was about." 

"So I surprised you, eh? Well, I guess I can get some 
of your favors, too. Why don't you give me a break? 
I've tried every way to interest you and you just give 
me a cold stare. I tell you I love you." 

The girl recoiled from this outburst against the wall 
of the ship, a half frightened expression on her face. 

"Oh, don't try to high-hat me," resumed the young 
fellow, now entirely irrational. "I know what I'm say- 
ing, and I'm going to have you, see? I don't care how, 
but get me, you'll be mine sooner or later." 

"Mr. Bellant," cried the wrathful girl, fully herself 
again, "I will ask you to stand aside and allow me to go 
to my rooms. I don't care to discuss anything with you 
and certainly not in the ugly mood in which you now 
seem to be." 

"Oh, you don't, don't you. Well, we won't need to 
discuss it. I'll just take what I want and make you 
like it!" 

The man strode forward suddenly and caught Alice 
before she knew what was happening. With all her 
strength, the girl fought off this half-crazed fellow, hut 



she was no match for his strength. Farther and farther 
back he bent her, attempting to get the kiss he thought 
he should have. The girl's back was nearly broken and 
her head swam as she struggled to free herself. With 
a last effort she screamed aloud. 

"Harry 1 Harry 1" 

"Damn you, you witch. I'll have you yet. Call your 
lover, and see what good it does." 

With this the young physicist dropped Alice where she 
was and fled, only an instant before Jameson appeared at 
the lower end of the corridor. 

"Alice? Alice? Did you call?" 

Jameson hurried up the dark hallway and did not even 
see the girl before he tripped over her prostrate body. 

"Dear! Are you hurt? What was it? Tell me 
quickly !" he cried in tense but low tones. 

Alice smiled weakly at him and shook her head, sink- 
ing immediately into unconsciousness. Jameson lifted 
her quickly and took her to the rooms of his colleague, 
Smith, whose wife was aboard. Shortly they had re- 
vived the girl, and she sat up blinking. 

"What was it, dear?" Harry pressed the question. 

"I — I don't exactly remember," the girl faltered. 
"Something large and black came to me and frightened 
me. I'll be all right now, I guess. No, I'd rather go 
back on watch with Harry. I'll feel safer there." 

After their return to the observatory, the girl confided 
to Jameson just what had occurred. For many minutes 
they discussed it, and after mature thought Harry arose 
and went directly to Bellant's room to see the fellow. 
Better have it out at once Harry thought. 

At Jameson's knock, the door was flung open by the 
defiant and sullen Bellant. 

"I've nothing to say to you. I don't want to talk to 
you. You must think I'm dumb not to know what goes 
on between you and that girl. Oh, don't look so right- 
eous—I'm not blaming you any. I simply intend getting 
mine too." 

This tirade from the physicist was met in stony silence 
by Jameson. The young astronomer's face was slowly 
whitening and becoming tense. Bellant noted this and 
suddenly fear entered his heart and a frightened look 
flitted over his face. He tried to shut the door, but 
Jameson flung it open, throwing the culprit to the floor 
within. Stepping inside, Harry closed and locked the 
door. 

"Bellant, I ought to whip you within an inch of your 
life for those last remarks. What you infer is neither 
true nor in any way justified by Miss Baldwin or myself. 
I gather that you said practically the same thing to Miss 
Baldwin. That is unforgivable. I came here to dis- 
cuss this with you calmly. You meet me with vile in- 
sinuations. I don't know that I am doing you a favor 
by refraining from thrashing you good." 

By this time Bellant had fully, recovered from his 
momentary faint-heartedness, rose insolently, and with a 
swagger faced Jameson, a leer and smirk twisting his 
good-looking mouth into a half smile. 

"Trying to scare me out? Playing the hero? Why 
take that 'better than thou' attitude? Afraid I'll horn in 
and take her away from you? Why man, I know how 
lovely she is. You can't have her all yourself. As I 
said before, I intend to get mine just as you are getting 
yours !" 

Jameson went white. His body became tense, his eyes 
flashed steel-blue sparks as he spoke. 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



57 



"I warned you. I told you you were mistaken. Now 
hear this : you are a lying coward. I gave you the benefit 
of the doubt before. Now I'll give you something else." 

With a stride Jameson covered the distance between 
them and struck Bellant full on the jaw. Ordinarily, the 
blow would have felled a larger man, but Bellant was on 
his toes and kept his senses, striking back with all his 
strength. Back and forth they fought, around the room, 
upsetting tables, smashing chairs, tearing the drapes, and 
creating a fearful hub-bub. On their feet, now clinching 
and rolling heavily about, gauging each other, pounding, 
and strangling. It was the primitive beast in each man 
lighting for the possession of the one woman. On their 
feet once more, the two circled cautiously. Suddenly 
Jameson tripped on a torn rug, falling to one knee. In- 
stantly Bellant rushed him, a broken chair leg upraised to 
strike. Jameson froze in his position, his body steeled 
to answer the instant command his mind was ready to 
flash. As Bellant towered above him, bringing the chair 
leg down with terrific force toward Jameson's skull, the 
kneeling man flashed into action. His right fist shot up 
like a bolt of lightning, his left shoulder caught the terri- 
ble blow of the chair leg as he rose, the right fist catch- 
ing Bellant squarely under the chin and lifting him clear 
off the floor. Without a grunt or a groan, the physicist 
sailed through the air and alighted in a dishevelled and 
unconscious heap. Jameson looked once at the fallen 
man and turned to go. 

"Open this door !" shouted a voice outside, and some- 
one pounded heavily on the panels. Jameson went to the 
door, shot back the bolt and flung open the door. 

"What is the meaning of this? What is this fight 
about? Who began. the affair?" A hundred questions 
from the ten people assembled outside the door fell 
quickly from their lips. Past them all Jameson strode, 
turning to answer only as he reached the end of the 
corridor. 

"Ask Bellant," he said and disappeared. 

CHAPTER X 

DURING the next six months very little was seen 
of Bellant about the ship. He seemed to have 
been completely cowed by the beating he had re- 
ceived from Jameson. Most of the time the young phy- 
sicist spent in a private laboratory of his own which he 
had fitted up before leaving Earth. What he was doing 
no one knew, as he took no one into his confidence. 

As the period of three years drew to a close, Bellant 
was forgotten in the excitement of the approach to their 
goal. Every hour brought the system of the Polaris 
suns and planets closer and closer. 

The day came when the entire system of four suns 
and the accompanying ten planets was visible in the 
larger of the telescopes. The primary set, Alpha with 
its three units, seemed to be the center of the planetary 
system. The secondary star, the ninth magnitude com- 
panion of Alpha, seemed at an enormous distance from 
the primary bodies and seemed to have little or no effect 
on the planets. All three bodies in Alpha were excep- 
tionally brilliant, and the pair which rotated as a sort 
of dumb-bell shaped unit, end over end, were light blue 
and a pink color respectively. The central body about 
which this gyrating pair swung was a dazzling white — 
not yellow like old Sol had been but pure, intense white. 

It was while engaged in observations on this system of 



suns that the discovery was made. Far ahead to the left 
several of the party using low power telescopes noted 
several odd black shapes. These increased from pin 
points to definite dots in the space of a minute, and at 
the same time took on a definite shape — long and thin 
like wee dashes of black in space. 

Immediately Jameson ordered the speed of the earth 
ship checked. Besides wishing to come up slowly to 
these bits of matter, he thought it high time that they 
return to the third dimension of space by cutting down 
enormously on speed. . They were getting perilously near 
their goal to travel at rates so excessive of normal 
interplanetary speed. A slow approach would give time 
for observation also. 

By this time the black dashes in space had become 
definite shapes. They were much like black cigars in 
appearance now — very far oft", but of definite shapes and 
therefore not stray matter in space. 

"The first of our colleagues ! I wonder from where 
these space ships came. We will know soon now for a 
few days more will put us into yon system and down to 
our landing on Erb, the fifth planet of the system." 

Jameson talked with Alice considerably during the 
next few hours and the two were the first to discover 
the ship overtaking them from "behind," or properly, 
"below" them. 

Immediately ten of the scientists donned space suits 
and in groups of three or four went through the air 
locks out on the hull of the space flyer to watch the over- 
taking ship pass them. They took with them celestial 
maps on which earth and old Sol were plainly indicated. 
If opportunity offered, these would be sent to the passing 
stranger. " 

The small speck behind gradually grew to a sizable 
spot, took on shape, and finally drew alongside the earth 
flyer. The newcomer was built in the form of a sphere 
and had no ports or windows visible. It was made of 
what looked like a glass with all the visual qualities of 
some of earth's white metals. Several of the scientists 
at once decided it must be made of a transparent metal 
of some sort or else a specially hardened and colored 
glass. 

Jameson and the rest who went out on the hull 
waved and signalled every type of code they thought 
might even be noticed by the occupants of the strange 
ship. As no doors or windows showed on the hull of 
the sphere, the earth men assumed that the hull of the 
ship must be transparent, at least from within. They 
were unable to peer into the sphere from the earth ship. 

By now the sphere ship had come to the same speed 
as the earth flyer and by token of this Jameson reasoned 
that the occupants of the stranger had recognized the 
earth men as living beings. Suddenly a small section of 
the sphere swung inward on a hinge, and from within 
the port thus formed, a small sphere floated out, followed 
by five more — a dull grey colored fabric body it appeared 
to be. These seemed to be propelled by small jets of 
escaping gas under . pressure. One sailed over to the 
earth ship, circled above the heads of the men, and re- 
turned to its own ship. Suddenly, all of the fabric 
spheres rose and flashed over the intervening space be- 
tween the flyers, coming to rest on the hull of the earth 
ship. 

The Jameson party gathered around the visitors and 
were suddenly surprised to see a plate in one of the 
fabric sides glow to light. On it came a diagrammatic 



58 



AMAZING STORIES 



picture of the solar system. A pointer indicated the 
third planet, Earth, and a picture of a man appeared be- 
side it. Across the plate a way, the diagram indicated 
the ninth planet of the solar system discovered by earth 
men only a few years earlier. Beside this planet appeared 
a picture of a small sphere-like body with short ap- 
pendages — all covered with heavy scales. Suddenly the 
picture became a movie — the sphere body pictured rushed 
across the diagram to the earth man and with a small 
instrument detached from its belt, sent a brilliant crim- 
son streamer at the man, blasting him to shimmering 
dust. There followed in quick succession a movie of the 
two space flyers, and as the two approached the Polaris 
system, the earth ship was pictured to turn tail and speed 
away back toward earth. The plate darkened, then 
flashed a picture of the two ships approaching the Polaris 
system closely. Suddenly the spherical ship flashed side- 
wise and crashed into the earth ship which it burst 
asunder, and passed on through unharmed. 

The plate went black, and with a quick jerk the six 
fabric spheres rose from the earth ship. Swiftly swoop- 
ing in an arc, these spheres struck down six of the earth 
party and streaked out for their own ship. 

"A declaration of war!" shouted Jameson. "They 
want to be the sole representatives at the conclave at 
Erb. That scene shows them to be from the ninth planet 
of Sol — the one discovered a few years ago. So little 
is known about it that we were unable to tell if it was at 
all habitable. These beings must be able to stand terrific 
heat changes. Probably there is no liquid in their make- 
up." 

At the moment Jameson was violently bumped from 
behind and as he whirled to see what had hit him, a piece 
of paper suddenly materialized in the void before him 
and floated toward the deck. As he reached for it, he 
was quickly bowled over and thrown along the deck. Re- 
peated efforts to see what had hit him disclosed nothing 
at all — all his colleagues were twenty feet from him. 

Gaining his feet quickly, Jameson recovered the paper 
which had so mysteriously appeared before him. As he 
straightened up, he was surprised to note a luminous 
trail "streaking out from the earth ship to the sphere 
of the declared enemy. The fabric spheres of the enemy 
were preparing to enter their ship as this luminous streak 
reached them. Suddenly these spheres were thrown 
roughly to one side and the trail of faint purple dis- 
appeared into the circular opening in the side of the 
sphere. Quickly the fabric spheres crowded into the 
opening and the circular door swung into place, leaving 
a perfectly smooth surface. 

Jameson hurried to the entrance lock of his own ship 
and plugged in his microphone to the interior speaker 
in the ship. 

"Get Eellant for me quick. He may be able to explain 
some of this light phenomena to us." 

"We've been trying to find him for five minutes and 
can't locate him. His clothes are gone and so are all his 
note books and valuables. We have had something 
wrong with the air-locks just now too — they opened and 
closed by themselves for no apparent reason. You had 
better come in." 

, This answer was rather stunning but Jameson was 
not one to linger when cold facts might be available 
within. Suddenly the paper in his hand caught his eye ; 
he remembered the bowling over he had just received — 
and looked quickly at the enemy sphere. It was rapidly 



moving ahead. Jameson began to think quickly. Eellant 
gone ; locks operated by themselves ; he had been knocked 
about; a trail of purple haze to the spherical flyer; a note 
materializing from mid-air. Hastily he turned and went 
rapidly through the air locks into the flyer. 

"Call Alice Baldwin on the general news speaker," he 
commanded as he doffed his space suit. 

"Sorry, Jameson, but we've been trying to locate her 
for the past ten minutes. Mrs. Smith was wishing to 
speak with her. We've searched the whole ship — even 
the store rooms. It's very strange, what with both Mr. 
Bellant and Miss Baldwin disappearing at once." 

It was enough to crystallize the vague ideas Jameson 
had been framing in his mind. He ripped open the 
folded paper he had recovered out on the hull of the 
ship. 

"My God!" Jameson was not profane, but spoke as 
if in prayer. 

"What is it, Harry?" Jones queried as he took off 
his space suit. 

"That infernal Bellant! He has left this ship for that 
enemy sphere — and he's abducted Alice with him. He 
created the strange path of purple haze from us to the 
other flyer. Where is the sphere? We must catch it — 
quickly !" 

"Too late, Harry. The sphere is already out of sight." 
Jones was not consoling in the least. 

"Then start immediately for Erb. We must obtain 
the help of our hosts in finding that rascal Bellant and 
my fiancee Alice. I will search the Universe for them if 
necessary." 

"You are absurd, Jameson." Smith spoke. "It would 
be impossible for Bellant to get from our ship to that 
enemy sphere without us seeing him, not to speak of 
taking with him an active girl like Alice without our 
knowledge." 

"That is where you are wrong, Smith," countered 
Jameson. "Listen to this note: 'It is brains, not brawn 
that win. You can best appreciate the saying "mind 
over matter" by trying to find me — or your ex-sweet- 
heart. She's mine now.' 

"I alone know what Bellant has been working on in 
the past six months. For months this young man — 
brilliant in spite of his corrupt morals — has been work- 
ing on a physico-chemical method of obtaining a complete 
invisibility for himself and all material or persons near 
him should he so desire. Very apparently he had accom- 
plished his end and has used his discovery to cover his 
abduction of Alice and his flight to the enemy ship. How 
he expects to be received, I do not know. I hope he is 
able to protect Alice against those enemy beings, should 
they be hostile. 

"Give orders for immediate high speed. I will remain 
on watch until we get into our fourth dimensional speed 
and are well on our way. We must reach Erb as quickly 
as possible now. Take every reasonable risk to push us. 

"Smith, will you and Jones please take observation 
positions to guard against destroying any of our col- 
league's ships? We must arrive at Erb before the enemy 
sphere does. 

"They may do incalculable harm if they arrive long 
before us." 

For the first time the men and women in the earth 
ship felt acceleration shock, so great was the strain 
thrown on the ship by the sudden and rapid increase to 
the highest possible speed. 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



59 



CHAPTER XI 

THE planets of the Polaris system soon came into 
prominence in the immediate foregrounds of the 
heavens and as the earth ship flashed past other 
ships in its mad careen through space toward Erb, the 
majesty of the three suns of the Polaris system unfolded 
in all its glory. As the flyer rushed up to the ten planets 
above, Jameson cut down the speed until once again the 
flyer was rushing through three dimensional space at a 
comparatively slow speed. 

At last the ship was in the general plane of the ecliptic 
of all Polaris' planets and turned inward in search of the 
fifth planet Erb. Oft" to the left was the farthest flung 
planet — the outpost of the Polarian space travelers. Now 
it passed the seventh planet, glorious in its crescent form 
as it reflected the light of its parent suns. 

"Erb ! I see it ! Slow down — we will have to go care- 
fully to avoid sliding past. We can't land at this speed !" 

But even as Jameson spoke, a giant space liner flashed 
past them headed for the planet. Everyone who could, 
observed this speeding craft through glasses and tele- 
scopes. Onward it fled — in ten minutes it approached 
Erb. Now it slowed down and swept in a far flung 
spiral curve, on past the planet and back and around it, 
ever approaching closer. After swinging completely 
around the planet three times, each time coming closer, 
the liner entered the atmosphere and slowed perceptibly, 
slanting down toward the surface of the giant sphere. 
Finally it disappeared around the sphere, and apparently 
landed on the other side. 

"We'll try it — more speed." Jameson took charge of 
the controls, and the earth flyer took a dive into its first 
big swing in the spiral about the planet. 

Erb seemed to spin before them as the space ship spun 
about the sphere. Down and down they went, at last 
entering the atmosphere. The ship's hull glowed to a red 
as it flashed through the air. The interior of the flyer 
grew very warm and Jameson called for a check in the 
speed. At last they were over the planet's surface and 
below them was the great landscape they had expected 
to see — orange colored foliage with some few sprinklings 
of green here and there. A group of peculiar buildings 
flashed beneath them. They whirled over an enormous 
sea — nearly a quarter the way about the planet this 
body of water extended. 

"The capital!" shouted one of the observers, and all 
eyes were focused off to the right where thousands of 
buildings appeared — all colors, tall and round, thousands 
of them. The ship veered around and sailed over the 
city in the very middle of which lay au enormous open 
field on which could be seen hundreds of ships, many of 
which appeared to be like the earth ship. 

Down to this field the men of earth floated, the voyage 
of three years through cosmic night coming to an end 
with a scarcely perceptible jar as the ship settled on its 
pedestal base. 

Spontaneously the thirty travelers from earth burst 
into a cheer and a rush was made for the doors in the 
lower part of the ship. 

Before opening up, however, careful tests were made 
of outside pressure, temperature, humidity, and atmos- 
pheric composition, Though low in oxygen and high in 
temperature the atmosphere was found to be livable and 
with great joy the men and women of earth descended 
to the ground, the first for three long years. The high 



barometric pressure of the air caused some difficulty 
at first but soon the earth party was breathing well. The 
enormous size of the planet caused the gravity pull to 
be exceedingly large, and it was with great difficulty 
that the party advanced to the center of the large field 
where a reception committee awaited respectfully. 

Before a word or greeting was exchanged, the Erbians 
offered strange shoe-like apparatus, and Jameson being 
the leader, tried these on. Instantly the terrific gravity 
pull was relieved and the Professor quickly urged the 
rest to get on a pair. 

"Greetings, men of Earth." 

Not a word had been spoken, but the message came 
to every man sharp and clear. For the first time Jame- 
son and his party became aware that the Erbians were 
much like earth men — the figure was much the same, 
the size being slightly larger, and although there were 
minor differences, the bodies of these sons of Polaris 
were very much like those of Jameson and the rest. 

"The star Sol sends Erbians his blessings and saluta- 
tions through his children, men of Earth. We are here 
at your call, and come in peace." 

Jameson bowed low with these words, not in subjuga- 
tion but in full recognition and respect of the Erbians. 

"The Erbian hears and understands you. He does 
not speak vocally, but makes his meaning clear to you by 
thought. Welcome to Erb, and may our planet give you 
a comfortable home while you are here. Please bring 
your party to the building yonder. All of your effects 
will be transferred for you from your ship to your home 
while here." 

The entire party was conducted to a beautiful building 
to the right of the field, and each assigned to a separate 
apartment of five rooms. Every room had a special me- 
chanical servant, each of which had been designed to 
respond to commands of the visitors. Not one of the 
earth party ever did obtain a full understanding of how 
these servants were constructed and operated. 

At the earliest opportunity a conference was held be- 
tween the leaders of the Erbians and Jameson with Jor- 
dan Blake and a few others chosen to act as executive 
committee. Immediately Jameson laid before these men 
of Erb the falsity of Bellant, and the war-like attitude 
of the fabric sphere beings from the ninth solar planet 
encountered in space, when Bellant had abducted Alice. 
Assistance was asked in locating this ship and a warrant 
for the arrest of the entire crew was issued by Alkacl. 
the presiding officer of the Erbians. 

Magnetic messages were relayed to every planet and 
satellite in the system, including the outpost planet and 
the penal or corrective satellites, setting watchers on the 
alert for tin's space ship. It was apparently the only 
one made in a spherical shape, for the Erbians had not 
used such a shaped flyer for centuries of their time. This 
would make it easy to recognize as most other flyers com- 
ing in were shaped much like the earth ship or long and 
cylindrical. As a final help, ten police ships were ordered 
abroad to patrol the interplanetary space of the system 
to try to locate the war-like vessel. 

For ten days of the Erbian time (about forty-five 
earth hours) the earth men were kept busy learning all 
about the conference next to be held. Twenty days were 
yet to elapse before the conference of the Universe was 
to start. Earth men were among the last to arrive as 
they were from one of the most far flung systems repre- 
sented in the conclave. Many beings were represented 



60 



AMAZING STORIES 



here on Erb. The surprising thing to the earth men was 
the similarity of all reasoning beings in the physical form 
although some were certainly peculiar. 

"It seems that the Creator has a very definite set of 
laws of evolution over his entire cosmic group of Uni- 
verses," the leader of the Erbians explained at a group 
conference. "There is a variation in the detail in most 
cases, but the basic principles are all the same. The 
animal world, the planet, and the mineral world all go 
through certain stages of evolution. There will be at 
this conference almost every stage of the evolution of 
the three types of life I have mentioned. I will see to it 
that you all get a chance to see your inferiors and su- 
periors — although frankly, you earth beings are nearly 
at the bottom of the scale that will be represented here." 

"Mineral life! I say, that's new to me," observed 
Smith to Jameson. "I wonder what such a being would 
look like." 

"Well, I believe it's the key to the life we saw in the 
fabric spheres from the enemy space flyer. Why, oh, 
why don't we hear some word of that ship. I tell you 
I'm nearly wild in spite of my outward calm ! What has 
happened to Alice? Where is she? What has Bellant 
done with her? Oh, if only these police ships would lo- 
cate the sphere, I'd go out and get it myself." 

The leader, Alkad, continued with his explanation of 
the stages of physical and mental evolution. It seemed 
that certain types developed mentally more than physi- 
cally and others just the reverse. The moral develop- 
ment was largely dependent in the environment and 
speed of development. 

Gradually Jameson lost interest in the very interesting 
discussion, and at last arose and left the conference. He 
headed directly for the earth space ship. On his way 
he was intercepted by a messenger. 

"Harry Jameson? The police have sighted the sphere 
ship you desire to capture. They lost it as it went out of 
our system. We do not police space beyond our system." 

"What types of weapons do you have which I could 
use myself? Jameson inquired. 

He was informed that a special car had been con- 
structed for police duty during this conclave of the 
Universe. It was just completed with the latest devices 
for capturing an enemy or for annihilating him. This 
ship the messenger offered for Jameson's use. 

The two entered an air rocket and were thrown high 
into the upper atmosphere of the planet where the rocket 
could travel without much friction and at prodigious 
.speed. A three hour flash through the upper air brought 
them a quarter the way about the planet where they de- 
scended and made a landing in a large metal recoil net 
which eased off the shock of the stop. 

A short trip in a surface car driven by a reaction 
motor brought the pair to the police yards. Here they 
found the new space police ship. Very small it was, big 
enough only for three men, but in it were masses of 
machinery. The whole was not more than thirty feet 
across. 

The ship had several observation windows about the 
circumference. On six different sides, equidistant one 
from the other, were six powerful ray projectors — all 
were paralyzing rays and designed to put out of com- 
mission all machinery in the path of the ray. All liv- 
ing material, also would be paralyzed by these rays. 
Inside the ship was a powerful attractor. Any object 
which was focused in the field of the attractor would 



be held fast and hard in any definite position desired. 

The mechanism for controlling and driving the ship, 
as well as the controls of speed, position, a magnetic 
radio communication with the central station of Erb, and 
the controls of the rays and attractors, were all located 
in a large control board directly in front of an operator's 
comfortable seat As a crowning glory, a section of the 
ship was devoted to machinery producing about the 
flyer a protective shield through which no heat rays or 
any known rays or missiles could pass. This made the 
ship impregnable and assured the positive capture of any 
ship or body the flyer might take after. As to speed, 
there was no known method for obtaining a higher speed 
than the police car could attain. 

Needless to say, Jameson was delighted. After an 
hour of instruction in operation and control, he selected 
two helpers and with no word other than a registration 
in the police records for outbound space ships, flashed 
up through the atmosphere of Erb out into the black 
night of Polaris interplanetary space. 

CHAPTER XII 

THE Erbian police ship under the hand of Jameson 
shot out into space at right angles to the plane of 
the ecliptic of the planets of Polaris. Somewhere 
in space close about this system lurked a spherical space 
ship now outlawed by its refusal to comply with the 
demands of the police ship which had sighted it and 
commanded it to land immediately on Erb. The task of 
finding this speck of matter in the vast ocean of dark 
void seemed colossal to the two helpers in the flyer with 
Jameson, but the young professor seemed not to realize 
the enormous chances of missing what he was searching 
for. 

Now the space car swung in a giant arc covering a 
half billion miles, allowing observation of the whole 
Polaris system of planets. 

After a swing back again, searching vainly over the 
space on the one side of the planetary plane or "ecliptic," 
Jameson flashed his car up through the system barely 
missing two of the outer satellites of one of the planets. 
Now on the outer side of the planetary system he again 
began the search for the dot that would indicate the goal 
of his search. 

Three billion miles of arcs in many directions re- 
vealed no trace of the enemy sphere. 

"Might as well return to Erb I guess," sighed Jame- 
son. "There isn't a sign of them out here. They must 
have gone a long way out into space to wait for a chance 
to slip in on some little inhabited planet or satellite." 

"Pardon, Professor, but what is that speck ahead of 
us heading for *he outer-most planet of our system ? 
There is very little on that planet but snow and ice — ■ 
our men there live in air-tight heated buildings." 

"Sure enough ! — the outlaw ship. All the speed we 
have, boys ! Let's get them." 

"Remember your proximity to the planets, Professor. 
Full speed would put you through the system in about 
two seconds." 

This caution from his helper prevented Jameson from 
applying too much speed at this critical time and helped 
to steady him to the task of overtaking the outlaw un- 
seen. With a careful hand on the controls, the police car 
.swept in a vast arc down towards the wee black dot 
in an effort to approach the outlaw from behind the 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



61 



planet and surprise it before it could escape. A chase 
out into space was not what they wanted. Once within 
a few miles oi the sphere, Jameson knew he could apply 
the force of the attractors and literally drag the helpless 
enemy to Erb where a full accounting could be had. 

At a terrific speed Jameson drove his new car at the 
planet where they knew the outlaw to be preparing to 
land. Closer now, almost upon the planet, the police car 
flashed. With a rush Jameson brought his ship about the 
curve of the planet and immediately sighted the enemy 
about to land some thousand miles away. Apparently 
they observed Jameson's car at the same instant for the 
sphere of glass-like metal dropped toward the ragged 
snow-covered mountains of the planet like a plummet — 
much too rapidly to be safe for the occupants Jameson 
thought. 

"Help watch for them. Use that electric magnifying 
telescope for me, please," commanded the Professor of 
his helpers. "We must not lose them among this rough 
country of crags, caves, and hollow mountains." 

Over the spot believed to have been the point where 
the sphere had dropped to the surface, the police car 
circled, each of the three occupants searching the land- 
scape for evidence of the outlaw. Suddenly a streamer 
of brilliant red cut through the semi-darkness of the 
atmosphere from beneath a rough mountain crag — just 
missing Jameson's ship by a few feet, 

"Whee ! That was close. Careless of me to forget 
our own protection. Turn on that generator for me, 
will you please?" Jameson spoke quickly and the per- 
spiration stood out on his forehead in beads as the re- 
actionary nervous shock set in. He had certainly allowed 
his men to come near to death. The heat ray from the 
enemy would have fused the windows of the police 
ship easily had it struck home. 

With the protective shield about them, the members 
of Jameson's party proceeded quickly to the attack. 
Down they dropped and began the maneuvering which 
they hoped would cause the sphere to make known its 
exact location. Around the great crags and deep valleys 
the police car sailed, hoping to draw the fire of the enemy 
and thus locate the hiding spot. 

Once again the red ray flashed out at the police ship 
and the three occupants cried in triumph as they spotted 
the sphere of the outlaws lurking in a deep recess be- 
tween the mountains. 

"Fire at them with our paralyzing ray — quickly be- 
fore they move — over there, see?" 

The helpers saw and had the ray in operation before 
Jameson ceased to speak. The red heat ray of the ene- 
my stabbed out once more, turning harmlessly aside as 
it struck the protecting energy-wall about the police car. 
The paralyzing ray sought and met this red ray; a blind- 
ing shower of sparkling flashes followed, and suddenly 
the red ray ceased to be. 

"The attractor, quickly — get them as they are and hold 
them. Sight first and get them in focus ; then switch on 
the current to hold them. I will pilot us back to Erb 
and drag them with us," cried Jameson excitedly. 
"Ready — shoot! or they'll escape. .There, that's fine. 
Now, hold on to them." 

With a triumphant gesture, the Professor sent the 
police car speeding up and away in a sweeping arc for 
Erb, dragging- the unwilling outlaw with him. Beam 
after beam of heat ray, dis-ray, and explosive ray were 
flashed at her captor by the sphere, all to be turned 



aside by the protective shield that surrounded the police 
car. 

As they neared Erb, the helpers in the police car held 
the sphere bathed, in paralyzing rays to prevent these 
outlaws from raying the people or buildings on Erb. 
Slowly they settled to the ground in the center of the 
landing field and squads of armed officers surrounded 
the outlaw sphere, ray guns in hand. At last Jameson 
appeared from the police car and ordered the enemy 
ship cut open. This was hazardous for it meant the use 
of electronic knives and should one of these slip slightly, 
the occupants of the ship might suffer. Too dear an in- 
dividual was believed to be in this ship to take great 
risks, so Jameson ordered very thin slices cut away each 
time. 

As the outlaws observed their ship being cut to pieces, 
they apparently decided that to surrender peacefully 
would be the safest course ; and before great damage was 
done, a section of the hull opened and out sailed a sphere 
bearing a white flag. 

"Surrender!" came the command from Jameson, and 
the sphere with the white flag dipped in recognition and 
acquiescence. 

"Stand by with your air police ready to stop any 
attempts at escape or reprisals," ordered Jameson to the 
Erbian officers. 

From the spherical ship came sphere after sphere, each 
bearing a white flag. At last no more emerged and 
Jameson felt sure all the sphere beings were emerged 
but somewhere in the ship were hidden two earth people. 

"Search the ship. I will lead. One of the spheres 
must proceed us in our search to protect us from a trap. 
Please do not come, Alkad. There may be danger and 
you should not expose yourself. This is our dispute, so 
let us settle it as best we can." 

Jameson spoke to his Erbian friend earnestly and 
started toward the outlaw ship followed by Erbian police 
and one or two of his own party. 

"Wait! I shall avoid exposing either yourself or my 
men," Alkad spoke sharply. "We possess a type of ma- 
chine which will do this investigating for us. Elam," 
he called to one of his escort and communicated some 
message to his kinsman. This individual nodded and 
hurried away on a rocket sled. 

"We have just completed a sort of robot which will do 
this investigating for us. The machine sees, hears, 
smells, and to a certain limit feels, or reacts to physical 
touch stimuli. We may note all these things through a 
separate receiver out here — a sort of radio transmission 
you would call it. Here comes Elam with the robot and 
receiver now." 

Soon the marvelous robot was inside the ship, con- 
trolled from the receiver by electric impulse. Watching 
and listening at the receiver, Harry Jameson excitedly 
gave commands for directing the robot. Now they could 
see through the robot's eyes and hear through its ears 
the interior scenes and noises of the ship. Down into 
the body of the ship they seemed to go. A scream 
reached their ears, and the robot halted, tried the knob 
of a door near him, and waited for orders. 

"Break the door down," came the command, and the 
robot charged the panel, shattering it to bits. 

"Alice !" shouted Harry as the robot's eyes registered 
the scene before it. Alice sat bound to a sort of chair 
and over her leaned Bellant, frozen in the act of reach- 
ing toward the helpless girl. The sight of the giant robot 



62 



AMAZING STORIES 



of shinning metal seemed to paralyze him with fear. 

"Harry is outside to rescue you. He will kill your 
tormentor," Jameson heard the robot enunciate with 
difficulty to the man and woman on whom its electrical 
eyes gazed. 

"Quick, have the robot seize Bellant before it is too 
late," shouted Jameson to the operator at his side. 

The robot strode one step forward, and then hesi- 
tated. The operator at Jameson's side asked quickly 
which Bellant was — he did not know and had had to 
hesitate to find which the robot should seize. 

"The man — please be quick," replied Harry in 
anxiety. Too well he knew what might happen. 

Apparently Bellant took the situation in clearly at 
the outset, and seeing the robot hesitate, he stepped back 
to a table, picked up something, and with a throwing 
movement, stepped quickly close to Alice and stooped 
toward her, arms outstretched. 

Even as Harry saw this and cried out the pair of hu- 
mans before the robot suddenly faded from view — 
vanished completely. 

"Bellant's invisibility robe," gasped the young astrono- 
mer. "Move the robot forward quickly. Follow any 
trail of violet luminosity. Bellant is escaping with 
Alice !" 

The operator of the robot seemed nonplused and 
failed to comprehend Jameson's full meaning. Instead 
of moving the robot forward instantly, he turned to 
Harry for further direction. 

"Quickly!" groaned Jameson. "Rush, the robot for- 
ward, arms outstretched. Follow any violet colored 
trails in the air. Oh, please act — do something!" 

The operator jumped into action and the robot ran 
forward, arms outstretched. Despite turning and mad 
rushing about the room, not a single solid object did the 
robot encounter. 

"It's too late. Bring the robot out here. We'll have 
to search for Bellant somewhere else. He is gone with 
Alice." 

At the moment out from the sphere came a rapidly 
moving air sled with apparently no one on it. Behind 
the sled a violet haze streamed. Not an individual no- 
ticed this until the sled was well launched into the air 
and streaking away at an ever increasing speed. 

"Police! After that sled!" commanded Alkad as he 
indicated the rapidly dwindling form of the sled. 

Instantly a dozen special speed sleds flashed up and 
streaked out after the fugitive. Alkad and Jameson 
flung themselves flat on a new sled and the driver ap- 
plied the power. With a scarcely perceptible thrust, 
the sled carried its passengers forward at a speed un- 
known in earthly atmospheric travel. Alkad estimated 
for Jameson that they were traveling at a speed of about 
five hundred miles per hour. 

"We'll overtake them shortly. There isn't an air sled 
made that can equal these in speed," Alkad commented. 
"See the police ahead of us? They'll catch your man 
for you." 

The fugitive sled was again in full sight as the police 
sleds gained on it, and Jameson leaned forward as if to 
help the sled along. Closer now they swept, the air 
screaming past their windshield with a shrill note. 
Ten minutes chase brought the police sleds upon the 
fleeing vehicle and as Alkad's conveyance pulled up over 
it, the cordon of the law drew tightly about Bellant. 

With no warning whatever Bellant literally dropped 



his sled on a steep decline toward the mountainous re- 
gion below them. Immediately the police dived after 
him, but the sudden change in direction of Bellant had 
caught the police sleds unawares, and they were miles 
past the spot Bellant first dropped before they could 
bank on a turn and drop quickly after him. 

By the time the pursuers were well down on their 
descent, Bellant's sled was down among the peaks. With 
unbelievable skill the fugitive zig-zagged through the 
crags and peaks of this rugged range covered with the 
stubby orange colored growth of dwarfed trees. The 
sleds of the law rapidly dropped toward the sharp peaks 
and the great gorges below. 

The foremost police sled dived almost vertically into a 
great gorge into which Bellant had sped. Rapidly the 
pursuer gained on Bellant, Now he was over him, 
apparently ordering him to halt. An instant later a 
flash of jagged lightning bolted upward from Bellant to 
the sled of the law. With a loud detonation the pursu- 
ing sled, officer, and machinery disappeared. 

With the flash of the detonation, Bellant's sled dived 
into the shadow of the deep canyon below and dis- 
appeared. 

A full hour's search by all the police cordon failed to 
reveal a trace pf the outlaw. A conference down in the 
cool depths of the great gorge led to a decision to return 
to the city. The whole fleet rose as one and streaked 
away through the blue of the Erbian sky. 

CHAPTER XIII 

ON return to the city at last, Jameson took time to 
observe what surroundings he had on this new 
planet. With the assurance of Alkad that not a 
moment should elapse without a police cordon on the 
search for Bellant and Alice, the young astronomer gave 
his attention to the coming conclave, mainly because 
he felt it a duty. 

There were representatives from over a thousand dif- 
ferent systems. Many forms of organic life were repre- 
sented. The earth representatives were about the low- 
est in the scale of the animal life represented and from 
the earth man, the type went on up, some individuals be- 
ing highly developed mentally — eons ahead of earth men 
— and some developed physically to the highest degree. 

The intellectual giants were very similar to the earth 
men in appearance, although their reasoning power was 
beyond the comprehension of the earth men. The phys- 
ical progress in animals had resulted in all sorts of odd 
developments. For the most part the body was smaller, 
and the appendages were much shortened and all use- 
less parts were eliminated. The head had enlarged in 
most cases and the appendages of locomotion were nearly 
gone because of the lack of use as the beings developed 
mechanical locomotion to a higher degree. Plant life 
was represented as well as the animal. Over a hun- 
dred of the guests of the Erbians were of plant origin, 
although the men of Earth soon learned that distinctions 
between plant, animal, and mineral life were really mat- 
ters of degree rather than kind. Most of the plant life 
used a rolling motion of the body to propel itself from 
one place to another. The bodies were of regular cel- 
lulose structure but highly complex, with many special 
tissues never found in earthly plant life. 

Very prominent among the visiting types of life were 
the "mineralites" as Smith soon dubbed them. These 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



63 



were individuals whose body was composed of crystals 
of minerals. Most of the higher types were built up 
of thousands of minute crystals of many colors, glow- 
ing with light as a rule. Presumably the individuals 
multiplied by enlarged growth and division or in the 
same general fashion as the earthly hydra reproduces 
— by simple "budding" of a new individual at one part 
of the body. 

As Jameson and his party were conveyed about by 
Alkad and his men, they were shown many delightful 
pieces of cultural art— drawings, pottery, and even 
sculpture work. 

Soon they were conveyed to a part of the planet where 
the sciences were studied and because of their interest 
in astronomy, Jameson and a few of his fellowmen were 
shown the electronic telescope through which Old Sol 
and the nine planets and asteroids had been detected. 

Not alone were there great physical, chemical, and 
biological laboratories but in as great proportion the 
Erbians had schools devoted to the study of psychology, 
of geology, and of the general best ways of living. They 
made a slave of their science whereby they provided 
by its means the necessary machines, robots, and elec- 
trical and chemical devices to completely free them of 
all drudgery and necessity for "making a living." Every- 
one of the Erbians had a chance to select a branch of in- 
telligence he liked best, while going through his pre- 
liminary training, and after his general education was 
complete, he devoted the rest of his life to the problems 
found in his field, 

"Here," said one of the guides during a trip through 
one of the advanced chemical research buildings, "is a 
department devoted to the study of the constitution of 
all matter. We believe everything is made from one 
initial material — perhaps energy. We are attempting 
to trace matter back to the beginning. Our greatest 
minds believe they are reaching a glimmering of the 
truth. While we never expect to lift the veil of mystery 
surrounding creation, we do expect to be able to deduce 
something of what is beyond the veil by the manifesta- 
tions of that beyond, which come to us as creations." 

Here was a very good sample of what the earth men 
found most of the problems of Erbians to be — almost 
beyond the limits of their imaginations. Jameson and 
his mates quickly divined that the little they knew of all 
knowledge was as nothing compared to the least intelli- 
gent of the Erbians. 

"I would like to inquire about the organic individuals 
you sent to Earth in the cylinder you sent us. They are 
a species found here?" Jameson put his question to 
Alkad. 

"They were a type oE intelligence which we developed 
for our own use. Literally they are organic thinking 
machines. Doubtless you of earth possess mechanical 
thinking machines — (calculators, slide rules, integrators) 
which take much of the dry everyday grind out of your 
complicated calculations. Just so do we have thinking 
machines, except that ours are organic and have a partial 
intelligence of their own. We developed this type of 
life to aid us in the more simple lines of thought. The 
thinkers may be educated to function in almost any in- 
tellectual field. Those sent to you were specially edu- 
cated on space navigation, and all the necessary mechan- 
ical and electrical knowledge necessary for this trip you 
have made. To be quite frank, we consider the thinkers 
to be capable of quite as much real intelligence as any 



of you earth men. The difference is that you are able to 
cover many fields while a thinker is trained in one field 
only." 

"May we take a trip over the Polaris system of plan- 
ets before the conclave begins?" requested Jameson. 

"Certainly. I will give you a guide and you may use 
your own ship. You will be allowed to land on every 
planet except the innermost of our system. The elec- 
tronic equipment there is too delicate to allow anyone to 
come closer than ten thousand miles unless specially 
trained in that field. Our specialists spend centuries in 
study before they are allowed even a preliminary visit 
to the power-sphere as we call it. Elam, will you con- 
duct the Earth party and ship about our system? Re- 
turn in fifteen days. We shall then begin our conclave." 

With no more ado the party returned to the space 
ship in which they had come from earth and began the 
tour of the system. For many days they went from 
planet to planet, visiting the more interesting parts of 
each, until at last only the outermost planet remained. 
This was the planet which was so cold and on which 
Erbians existed only when protected by great heated 
dome buildings. It was only after much persuasion that 
their guide took them to this faraway place. Fortunate 
it was that the Earth men insisted on seeing this ice- 
covered sphere for had they not, Bellant would doubt- 
less have remained at large for all time. 

As they descended on the planet, guided by Elam*s 
direction, they were able to look down into one of the 
great glass-domed buildings, and were surprised to see 
there the great glass-like ball of the space ship owned 
by the sphere bodies from the solar system. Guided by 
Elam, the Earth ship dropped carefully through an 
opened dome and after closing the dome above them, at- 
tendants in the form of mechanical robots guided the 
ship to one side, and anchored it securely. Opening 
great ovenlike heaters, the robots warmed the large 
building up to normal again after the penetrating cold 
of the outside. When air conditions were adjusted and 
the temperature was endurable, upon a signal from a 
small house at one side, the robots opened the flyer to 
allow the Earth men to emerge. 

An Erbian came from the small house to greet them. 
Immediately upon questioning by Elam, the Erbian ad- 
mitted he was housing an unregistered space ship in 
another building, but said the ship had claimed to be 
coming into the Polaris system from the Solar system 
— had wished to stop for repairs and supplies. He im- 
mediately agreed to conduct the party to the other build- 
ing where Jameson felt sure he would find Alice and 
Bellant. 

Before boarding a peculiar platform with the earth 
party, the Erbian gave directions by a telepathic thinker 
that the spherical space ship and all occupants were to be 
held till he arrived. The thinker, it seemed, was a 
specialized telepathy unit and could easily transmit a 
message or mental image to a similar thinker in the 
other building. With a final direction to a second thinker, 
the Erbian boarded the platform and announced that 
they were about to go into the fourth dimension for a 
brief interval. In that dimension they could safely and 
easily go "beyond" the intervening rock and ice into the 
other building just as an airplane can easily go "over" 
into a field surrounded by a very high fence. The plane 
needs only to rise from two dimensions into the third 
dimension, travel over the obstacle and drop down safely 



64 



AMAZING STORIES 



on the other side back into the second dimension. Solid 
objects offered no more resistance when traversed in 
the fourth dimension than a fence offers when hurdled 
by means of ascent into the third dimension. 

Each one held his breath as the platform started to 
move. There was only the sensation of a sort of slip- 
ping motion — no particular direction, but each felt he 
was moving somewhere. Then the solid walls, rock,_ice, 
and snow all appeared to be half transparent. It was as 
though they were looking both at the solid objects and in- 
side them at the same time. The whole scene, from the 
earth space ship clear to the enemy sphere ship, was 
plainly before them, including all the rock and ice be- 
tween the buildings. 

With a swirling-like feeling the earth men came to a 
sudden slipping stop and once more the walls were solid 
and the building opaque. 

Immediately Jameson sprang to the floor and started 
for the enemy spheres. He was stopped by the Erbian 
in charge of the great domed building. 

"You will wait until your guide advises me as to your 
status here," the Erbian communicated. 

"We are here to arrest those individuals in the sphere 
ship. They are outlaws. W hy haven't you notified Erb 
of this? The police have been looking everywhere for 
this ship — haven't you had the messages?" 

The Erbian conferred with Elam and it was a very 
serious group which approached the silent sphere ship 
of the outlaws. 

"Bellant, come out and bring Alice with you," Jameson 
called loudly at the open door of the space flyer. 

There was no response for a moment, and then the 
door of the ship flew shut suddenly, the ship rose quickly, 
and after circling a moment headed directly for the glass 
dome above. If it struck the great arch and broke 
through, all in the room below would perish from the 
sudden chill of the outside atmosphere. Besides that, 
tons of glass would shower down on them, cutting every- 
one to ribbons. There was no time to run for shelter— 
the sphere ship was half way to the top and ever gain- 
ing speed. Twenty seconds and it would crash through 
the dome out toward space. The Erbians both shouted 
aloud, saying a certain set of vowels quickly. 

Instantly in response to the vocal call of the Erbians 
six great robots about the building flashed into action, 
stepping to a beam transmitter as a man, throwing the 
power switch, and training the ray on the escaping ship 
in less time than it required to shout the command. 

The fugitive swirled drunkenly about and careened 
to one side but continued to rise, ever more slowly. The 
rays had paralyzed the machinery and any life in the 
sphere. Still the ship rose, and the men below became 
anxious for fear the big ball would crash through the 
dome from the momentum it had gained. At last the 
fatal second came — would the dome hold against the 
impact of the slowly moving ship? 

With a resounding crash the big glass-like ship struck 
the dome top and rebounded as a rubber ball from the 
snap of the elastic give in the dome structure. A shower 
of fine glass rained over the rebounding sphere and slid 
off to flitter down to the floor. Only a few individuals 
were cut and so great was the joy at the capture of the 
outlaw that no one minded the slight injuries. 

The Erbian in charge immediately dispatched a dozen 
robots with glass squares to repair the damage done to 
the dome, and with a powerful attractor he pulled the 



sphere to the floor. The door was pried open, and in- 
side went Jameson and half a dozen others, ray pistols 
in hand. 

Strange to say not a sphere body could be seen. Later, 
they learned that Bellant had stolen back to the landing 
field on Erb and appropriated the space traveler with- 
out permission. A long search disclosed Bellant with 
Alice in a tiny cubby hole at the base of the ship where 
he had hoped to escape detection. 

"Come out, Bellant," ordered Jameson, and the sub- 
dued physicist obeyed without a word. 

Turning the culprit over to two of his men, Jameson 
picked up the unconscious form of Alice and tenderly 
carried her outside. It was with great eagerness that 
Harry waited while the Erbian administered a stimu- 
lating drug to bring Alice out of her unconsciousness. A 
full ten minutes elapsed and the first faint fluttering of 
her eyelids brought Harry to her side. 

"Darling, are you all right?" the young astronomer 
cried. "It is Harry — you are safe at last. No longer 
shall Bellant torture you. Speak to me, dear." 

The girl tried to speak, but only made strange gurgling 
noises. Another attempt brought better results. Alice 
whispered that she was only very weak from lack of 
food and water. It seemed that Bellant had failed to lay 
in a supply of the two necessities before making off 
with the sphere ship. As the sphere bodies were mineral 
in nature, they used no organic food and very little 
water. 

Despite Jameson's protestations, Bellant was placed 
in a room by himself and left unpunished for his gross 
misdeeds. The Erbian did not understand physical pun- 
ishment and so did not feel that a good whipping might 
be efficacious. After making all arrangements for a re- 
turn of the sphere ship to Erb, the entire party returned 
to the earth ship via the fourth dimension and made 
ready to return to Erb. 

The return was uneventful and although Harry's 
fingers itched to get at Bellant, Elam saw to it that the 
two men stayed apart. At a trial later, Bellant was 
convicted of gross misconduct and was sentenced to ten 
years' study of social behavior under a guard. It was 
later decided to return Bellant to earth when the party 
set out on the return voyage. 

The fact that no more trouble was encountered with 
Bellant proved that the fellow was pretty well subdued. 

CHAPTER XIV 

AC last, able to devote his entire energy to the 
object of the voyage to Polaris, Jameson plunged 
■ into the conclave and the meeting of all the 
various delegates from all over the Universe. Literally 
hundreds of individuals were brought together there, 
each a little different from every other one and some 
vastly different from the earth men. Among the more 
unusual types of life were beings whose bodies were so 
far advanced in evolution as to be nothing but a brain, 
carried about by mechanical servants. These peculiar 
fellows came from the very depths of the Milky Way. 
They had been making a tour of the Universe when they 
stopped to visit the Polaris planets. They represented 
as high an intelligence as could be found, the earth men 
were told. Strange as it seemed, they were the ones with 
whom it was easiest for the men of earth to communi- 
cate. 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



65 



Month after month passed and ever new and more 
marvelous things were revealed to the earth men. Their 
store of knowledge was rapidly becoming too great to be 
useful — literally thousands of the marvels of chemistry, 
biology, and physics would be hundreds of years ahead 
of the people to whom the delegates of earth would re- 
turn. Much of the knowledge would remain only as 
records until the intelligence level of the average man of 
earth rose to a point where such information would be 
of value. Much of the more intricate reasoning and in- 
formation passed about at the conclave simply passed 
over the heads of Jameson and his men — they did not 
have the experience to enable them to grasp what was 
going on. Many of the more miraculous feats of intel- 
ligence displayed at general meetings simply didn't reg- 
ister with the earth men. The operations of mind on 
these higher levels meant nothing at all any more than 
a complicated calculation of marvelous radio apparatus 
would mean anything to an African bushman. Very 
quickly Jameson learned that to understand a thing, some 
part of it must fall within his previous experience so that 
it could be recognized at least in part. 

The months rolled on, each one adding to the store 
of knowledge and the volumes of notes which were all to 
be taken back to earth. The delegates to this conclave 
had agreed upon a meeting once every period of Erbian 
years, which amounted to about a century of earth time. 
No one on the visit this time from Earth would ever 
meet at the conclave again, but with the secrets of pro- 
longing life, the Jameson party hoped to impart to the 
new generations of earth many times the usual three 
score ten years allowed man for his span of life. 

Important points of universal law were decided upon, 
and visits between planetary systems were arranged. 
The earth men were scheduled for a visit to Alpha Cen- 
tauri ten earth years hence — and in the meantime a 
group of Erbians was to visit the Solar system to see 
what could be done for the general betterment of the 
inhabitants of the planets there. 

All war between systems was banned as a matter of 
course, and a court of judgment was set up for settling 
disputes arising between parties in the same system. As 
a special recognition of the efforts of earth men, since 
they were the intellectual babies in the conclave, the 
Solar system was chosen for the next conclave a century 
hence. Many a conjecture was made as to just what 
progress mankind could make in the century before him, 
until he became host to the Universe. 

After a year and a half of Erbian time the conclave 
proper broke up, and a large majority of the visiting 
delegates boarded their ships, sealed their doors, and 
sailed away into the sea of space toward their respective 
homes. The delegation from Earth was to remain, how- 
ever, and after all but a few of the visiting parties had 
gone, plans were laid and put into use to educate the 
thirty members of the party from Earth. 

Day by day the earth men learned what the marvels 
of raw energy were and how to obtain the energy di- 
rectly from the molecular forces holding matter together. 
In this Bcllant went farther than any of the rest of the 
party, since it was his field. Strangely he and Jameson 
became more intimate in their relations than ever before, 
but through it that feeling that the other was an enemy 
ran, and each was constantly on his guard. 

The day came when the earth party was to see the 
■ Solar system through the marvelous electronic telescope 



of the Erbians. They were all to be well versed in cosmic 
geography before the lesson was finished. Since Jameson 
was the leader of the party, he it was who first glimpsed 
the tiny ball of fire and the nine planets and hundreds 
of asteroids faintly visible about the central sun. Fortu- 
nately for the observers, the plane of the ecliptic of the 
Solar system is nearly at right angles to the polar axis 
of the universe as indicated by men of earth. This made 
the observer on Polaris look down on the Solar system 
from above the plane of the ecliptic, and observe the 
planet bodies circling in their orbits about the sun. 

There, before the party, the scene was gradually de- 
veloped after Jameson's initial observation, and shortly 
there appeared on the big screen a shadowy picture of a 
small ball of fire and spaced about it were wee points 
faintly luminous, each representing a planet. The asteroid 
belt appeared to be a faint circle of light, placed at the 
fifth position of Bode's numbers. 

Jameson's mention of this caused the Erbians to in- 
quire what this Bode's numbers might be. 

"It has been observed that the planets and asteroids 
are distant from the sun at intervals which seem rather 
regular and correspond roughly to 4-7-10-16-28-52-100- 
196-388," explained Harry in best astronomical style, 
"but we are about convinced that this relation is entirely 
accidental and has no real "law" as Bode would have it. 
The distances and numbers get entirely out of gear as we 
go from the inner planets (the first four about the sun) 
to the outer or major planets." 

Much investigation followed and the men of earth 
learned a great deal about the Solar system that had 
never even been suspected by earth men before. The 
Erbians believed that all planets of Sol, with the possible 
exception of Mercury, were inhabited by living beings — 
not all like men but some sort of life. They pointed out 
some of the types of life exhibited during the conclave, 
and showed where the mineral beings could easily live 
on Jupiter. 

"But the major planets are all excessively cold," Alice 
interrupted. "They all range around 170 degrees below- 
zero Fahrenheit. All water would be ice. Even the 
clouds we see about these planets are probably clouds 
of condensed carbon dioxide." 

The discussion waxed warm, and to the Erbian's de- 
light, men of earth actually argued some of the Erbians 
off their feet. This pleased the Polar men and with re- 
newed vigor the education process was attacked. 

At every turn Harry and Alice were together, learning 
side by side. Always in their shadow Bellant followed. 
He made no effort to interfere, did not annoy the girl, 
nor did he bother Jameson. Notwithstanding, Jameson 
kept very close watch and for over a year the guard he 
kept over Alice was vigorous and attentive. Since all of 
Bellant's equipment and apparatus had been taken from 
him, the girl no longer feared the invisibility cover with 
which Bellant had formerly captured her; she actually 
enjoyed an occasional tiff with Bellant in their intel- 
lectual clashes during study hours. 

Three years had passed and still the party from earth 
studied. The whole of the Erbian race was immensely 
proud of what they had contributed to the education of 
these thirty inferior beings from the far away Solar Sys- 
tem. Not alone in the scientific fields had the party 
been thoroughly trained and advanced, but in sociology, 
religious life, the ways of living, and general government. 
By this time each and every member of the earth party 



66 



AMAZING STORIES 



was as an intellectual giant compared to other earth be- 
ings. Especially had Bellant progressed in physical 
studies. His knowledge of electricity and raw energy 
was astounding even to the Erbians. It was whispered 
that perhaps he knew too much ! What use would he 
make of his knowledge? He had proved a rascal twice 
before — why not again? 

How much truth this whispered fear had in it they 
were to find out all too soon. 

As the fourth and last year of their visit drew to a 
close, the men of earth began to turn their thoughts 
toward home — yes, even that germ-infested, dirty, striv- 
ing old world, Earth, looked very good to these chil- 
dren of Sol for after all, a few years cannot basically 
change human nature. The women in the party, for all 
the marvelous things they found to do on Erb where 
everyone was a part of society and no sex distinctions 
were made, were frankly homesick. The Erbians could 
scarcely comprehend this, but after thinking upon a sub- 
ject, rightly concluded that even with ail that man had 
learned on his visit with them, he was in principle 
just a high grade animal with a rising but not "risen" 
intellect. 

From this time on the party became more restive and 
after many attempts to get full attention to further 
studies, the Erbians wisely concluded that earth man's 
cup was full, and that more intelligence poured therein 
would simply run over the sides to waste. With regret, 
for every teacher likes to impart his knowledge to the 
fullest extent, the great leader, Alkad of the Erbians, 
made a lengthy speech of appreciation for the attentive 
and willing attitude of the earth men while visiting Erb, 
and informed them that the Erbians wished them God- 
speed on their return voyage which would require an- 
other three-year period of cosmic travel, back to the 
Solar system. 

This polite but welcome dismissal of the earth men 
was met with open welcome by the entire party. After 
conference, Jameson delivered a return address express- 
ing the lifelong thanks and appreciation of the men of 
earth for all the wonderful knowledge given them by 
their beloved brothers and benefactors, the Erbians. 
Thanks were given for the original invitation to come to 
Polaris and for the books of knowledge accompanying 
the invitation. 

Full energies were now turned toward the recondition- 
ing of the space ship and all kinds of supplies were laid 
in for the return voyage. 

A trailer ship was designed and attached for carrying 
specimens, special machinery, volumes of notes, and 
greatest of all, a few individuals from various systems 
who agreed to go back to Earth. The sphere-bodies 
from the ninth planet of Sol were to return to their 
home and the Erbians urged that the two ships join 
company, allow themselves to be fastened together, and 
return to the Solar systems as brothers. 

With great misgiving Jameson and his leaders agreed. 
Bellant was especially agreeable to this plan. Later, we 
learned that the idea was suggested by Bellant. 

As a crowning glory, Elam, the guide of the earth 
party, while in the Polaris system, asked to be allowed 
to go back to Earth with the party. Naturally, the whole 
party was overjoyed, for they not only admired Elam, 
but loved him as a brother. 

Preparations were finally completed, the earth ship and 
the glass-like spherical ship of the sphere-bodies were 



firmly fastened together with a communicating door be- 
tween, and the loaded trailer ship was attached to the 
base of the earth flyer. With final farewells, many heart- 
aches, and promises of an early visit from the Erbians 
to Earth, the three-ship unit rose slowly from the sphere, 
Erb, sailed up vertically to the plane of the ecliptic of the 
Polaris planets, and with an ever increasing rush, 
streaked out into space with twenty-nine hearts bent on 
a quick return to Earth. Only Bellant was not quite 
ready to land on the earth — not until he had complete 
control of plans he was even then laying for his great 
"coup." Could Jameson have looked into Bellant's heart 
at this time, he would have severed the ships instantly 
and thrown Bellant into irons for the rest of the voyage. 

CHAPTER XV 

SHORTLY after the homeward start, Elam called 
for a general meeting. Here he brought forth a 
plan for making the voyage back to Earth seem 
much shorter. 

Standing on the table amid the group, he demonstrated 
a synthetic drug much used on Erb for producing tem- 
porary slowing down of all bodily functions. With it he 
showed a drug for relieving this condition. Upon cal- 
culation it was found that one injection of the drug 
would hold a man in a sort of suspended animation for 
a full year. At that time it was deemed advisable to re- 
vive the individual and recondition him physically. The 
body very slowly wasted away during this period as it 
was used for food — only a minute amount of energy was 
required to keep the body alive in this condition. The 
subject retained a hazy consciousness during the entire 
time with periods of. natural sleep. 

It was agreed that most of the party should be placed 
under the influence of the drug. Jameson was to remain 
on guard, keeping things in order. The rest of the party 
would be brought out of their sleep-like condition every 
year for a month. 

The injection was continued until all but Jameson, 
Alice, and Bellant were placed in their beds. Elam's 
approach to Bellant was met with a stone- wall resistance. 
The physicist not only desired to remain awake, but in- 
sisted that he be let alone — he had much to do on his 
notes, he said, and there were many experiments he 
wished to conduct. Although a bit worried by this, 
Jameson agreed, with the warning that on no account 
would he tolerate any treachery. Bellant's only response 
was a rather faint smile and an all-enveloping look at 
Alice. Elam noted this and, remembering the man's 
history, determined to keep close watch on Bellant. 

With Alice placed under the drug influence, there 
remained only Jameson, Elam, and Bellant about the 
ship. These three had their meals together and one 
remained on watch while the others slept. The time 
dragged. While each had much to keep him busy, they 
all longed for the time when the rest of the party 
would be revived. 

Bellant worked in his shop incessantly, behind closed 
doors. He even refused to admit Elam, while he was 
working, insolently telling Elam that he wouldn't under- 
stand anyway. This was the first insult that Elam had 
ever had, and he went to Jameson to get its full mean- 
ing. When Jameson translated the statement, the Erbian 
boiled with a rage he had not known in his whole life. 
He was absorbing a few of the traits of earthmen in 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



67 



spite of himself. It was only by very sharp disciplining 
that Jameson prevented Elam from going right back to 
attack Bellant. How very primitive, for an Erbian, 
Jameson pointed out. 

Without further word Elam went to work in his 
laboratory aboard, and remained very secluded for the 
balance of the first year. It was only when the year 
was up that the two earth men saw what he had been 
working on. 

Coming from the laboratory with Elam, one bearing a 
flask of the drug which relieved the state of coma of the 
sleeping passengers, and the other holding an injection 
needle, were two very strange looking organisms. They 
stood about four feet tall, had an eye, a nose, an ear, 
and a sort of long snout, all arranged on the top of the 
body proper. There were four arms with four very 
supple tentacles for fingers, and for means of locomo- 
tion each had a wheel on which he rolled along. The 
wheel was part of the body and had a sort of "tire" of 
cartilage about it and was centered on a ball and socket 
joint of bone! They were flesh colored and hairless. 
Each seemed to balance perfectly on its "wheel-foot" as 
Bellant called it. 

"Meet my new servants, gentlemen," commented Elam 
as he came forward. "The one with the flask is called 
Tick, the other Tock. I name them so because they are 
designed to respond to those names only. I have heard 
some of your party refer to a certain Tick Tock who is, 
I presume, some one of importance on your planet." 

The two earth men roared with laughter and when 
Jameson explained who Tick Tock was, Elam joined in 
the laugh. 

"But where did you get them? I am sure you didn't 
bring them with you," said Bellant. 

"No, replied Elam, "I grew these right here on board 
in the past four months. You will remember that I 
brought a great number of containers of organisms with 
me when we left Erb. I have put these together and so 
controlled them as to grow these servants. They have 
brains, too — but not too powerful ones. As you know, 
there are two parts of all animals which control kinds 
and extents of growth in them. The chromosomes with 
their genes and the glands of the body, mainly the so- 
called 'ductless glands.' To make a complicated matter 
simple, I simply alter the genes in the chromosomes to 
get the different traits I want brought out, and control 
the glands chemically to promote or retard growth in dif- 
ferent parts of the body. It's a matter of control in 
both kind and extent of animal growth. 

"Let us bring the party out of its sleep and feed them 
— they will be rather thin by now." 

After much work, the entire party was revived, and 
each declared he had been but dozing a few minutes. 
However, a glance at the constellations proved to each 
that he had indeed been dozing a long time. 

For a month the party ate and slept normally, en- 
joying life immensely. Then the entire bunch was re- 
turned to the state of coma, and this time Jameson went 
under the drug too. His assistant, White, took over the 
duties of the ship and with him Alice stayed awake. 
She knew a great deal about Jameson's plans and was 
able to help White enormously. Again Bellant refused 
the drug, and again Elam tried to find out what great 
problem was occupying Bellant so continuously. 

Bellant had become so busy, that he asked to have his 
meals sent to his workroom. Alice was indignant at 



first, but on the advice of Elam she simply awaited de- 
velopments. 

Elam was elated. This was just the chance he wanted. 
When asked, Bellant readily agreed to have one of 
Elam's peculiar animal servants bring in his meals. Lit- 
tle did he realize what that piece of flesh could be trained 
to do. 

Day after day Elam spent with his servant, altering 
the internal structure and training it, hour upon hour. 
After a month the servant became more alert, and 
several times Bellant noted the animal looking carefully 
about. For some reason Bellant did not suspect that the 
animal could have intelligence. Perhaps it was the ap- 
pearance of the thing — just a hairless bunch of flesh, 
apparently. 

Far from the dumb" animal it appeared to be, however, 
the servant was observing, and each day, when it re- 
turned from Bellant's laboratory, it recorded what it 
had seen. Every day it drew plans, duplicates of what it 
had seen in Bellant's rooms. Soon Bellant became too 
engrossed to note much of what the servant did. The 
animal took to making Bellant's bed and straightening 
up his drawing desk. It cleaned the floors — did every- 
thing a good servant and valet could do. Bellant came 
to depend on it greatly. 

All this while Elam was assembling copies of the notes 
and plans that Bellant believed to be his alone. Soon 
the servant began to draw diagrams of complicated elec- 
tric machinery Bellant was actually building, and Elam 
built them too, studying carefully each part for its pur- 
pose. Gradually a glimmering of the truth came to 
him. How he wished it possible to take by force the 
thoughts from Bellant's mind, but long ago the Erbian 
had found it impossible to read the thoughts of an in- 
dividual unless the subject willed it so. So much of the 
guess work he was speculating on could Elam certify, 
if only he were able to delve into Bellant's mind. 

Month after month passed, and finally Bellant became 
less seclusive. He took his meals with the others again, 
and was more jovial. At Elam's suggestion, the 
servant was still detailed to clean up and tidy Bellant's 
room. Soon Bellant began to spend a great deal of time 
in the base of the ship where the great driving mech- 
anism was. Several times Elam surprised the physi- 
cist as he was meddling with the wiring of the great 
blue globe and the green disc. Each time Bellant ex- 
plained that he was trying to get in mind exactly how the 
ship was propelled, and Elam believed it — for that was 
exactly what Bellant was doing — learning how the mech- 
anism worked. 

Elam's suspicions now became practical certainties and 
once more he became a recluse in his laboratory. Every 
few days he would return to the company of the rest 
of the people, each time spending every minute he could 
looking at Alice. This annoyed Bellant considerably as 
he felt that here was a new contender for the beautiful 
girl's favor. He questioned Elam closely about what 
occupied him so much in his lab, and each time Elam 
replied that he was growing a new type of servant. This 
was really the truth, although the servant was not quite 
what he led Bellant to believe it was. 

The second year came to an end, and once more the 
whole party was awakened and fed well for a month, 
and again placed under the drug influence. This time 
Alice went too, and Jameson remained conscious to com- 
plete the journey now well on towards the end. They 



68 



AMAZING STORIES 



had made better time on the return, and the trip would 
be shortened by about three months. That meant that 
only eight months were left. Jameson was jubilant — 
he intended to make short work of disposing of Bellant 
once on earth, and then he and Alice could have that 
home they both wanted. Had he known the short but 
terrific struggle they would go through by that time, he 
would have forced Bellant into using the coma-producing 
drug and cut loose from the sphere ship attached to the 
earth flyer. 

A month later Elam's servant began to report clandes- 
tine visits of Bellant to the sphere ship. It had been 
agreed to remain separate parties throughout the voyage. 
This was a breach of faith, both on Bellant's part and 
that of the sphere-bodies. Again Elam's fears were 
being confirmed, and he redoubled his labor in his work 
shop. One day he was finished, and confided to Jameson 
that he had a masterpiece finished, but that no one was 
to see it for some time; he would, however, show it to 
Jameson first. 

Following this, Elam suddenly decided that the three 
men — Bellant, Jameson, and himself — should make a 
tour of the rooms to observe the sleeping passengers. It 
was so arranged, and the three made the tour, giving 
each party a thorough inspection as to general health 
and room conditions. All three being interested in Alice, 
it was not surprising that they lingered rather long in 
her room. Elam pointed out how healthy the girl looked, 
and how curly her hair was — a rather odd thing for him 
to do thought Jameson. 

The next watch, when Elam alone stayed on guard 
while Bellant and Jameson were supposed to be asleep, 
a shadowy figure stole down the corridor to Alice Bald- 
win's door and slipped inside the room. A moment later 
the shadow reappeared, one arm full of some soft cloth- 
like things — possibly clothing. Stealing back the cor- 
ridor, the shadow slipped out of sight for about five min- 
utes and then reappeared, bearing in its arms something 
very large and bulky. It staggered a little as it fled down 
the corridor a second time, stopped at Alice's door, 
looked hastily about, and melted from sight into the 
shadow of the open door. Two minutes elapsed and 
again the shadow slipped out into the darkened hallway, 
apparently bearing the same large bulky bundle in its 
arms. Again it hurried up the corridor, and silently 
turned down a side hall. A footfall sounded from be- 
low, and the shadow made a dash for its room, popping 
inside and clicking the latch just as Bellant came into 
view. 

The physicist had heard the swish and the click of 
the latch, and stopped dead still a moment. Using his 
flashlight, he picked out Jameson's door, and without a 
knock of warning, flung open the door and stepped with- 
in, throwing his spotlight on the sleeping form of Jame- 
son. Without a doubt the sleeper had not moved for 
some time and was genuinely startled when Bellant 
aroused him. Satisfied that it had not been Jameson 
whom he had heard, he mentioned the incident and to- 
gether they went in search of Elam, whom they found 
in the observation room making some calculations as to 
• their speed, position in space, and so on. 

"Have you been here long?" inquired Bellant sharply, 

"Ever since I left you at your room," replied Elam. 
"Why do you ask?" 

"Could you prove you have been here all the time?" 
Jameson queried. "Some one was just through our 



corridor, and it was neither of us. Sure you weren't?" 

"You must be dreaming. I'm sure I've been here for 
a long time. I think you're working too hard, Jameson. 
I am sure you don't get enough sleep, Bellant," com- 
mented Elam. The last statement carried double mean- 
ing, but it went over Bellant's head entirely. 

"Well, it's mighty funny. I swear I heard a rustle 
and then the click of a latch. You are sure you weren't 
back then for anything, Elam?" 

"Bellant, he has already told you he has been here 
since he left us," Jameson said with some heat. For all 
his admiration of the physicist's knowledge, in Jameson's 
heart smouldered a mild hate for this fellow. 

The incident passed and no more was thought of it — ■ 
at least not for a few months. 

Once again the three men made a tour of the sleeping 
passengers, and each was found to be exactly as before. 
This time it was Bellant who commented on Alice's 
beauty. He and Jameson agreed that, if possible, Alice 
was more beautiful than before. 

"She seems to have more color today, and her hair 
seems more flaxen than it was," Jameson noted and Bel- 
lant agreed. Elam looked on, and said little. For some 
reason Elam had this time advised against a close ex- 
amination of the passengers and so the tour was soon 
complete. 

CHAPTER XVI 

BY now the Solar system was quite visible and by 
means of high power, the telescope revealed the 
entire system with its nine planets, the asteroids, 
and the central sun. It was when the ship was within 
a week of the Solar system that the blow fell. Jameson 
was on guard, and Elam and Bellant had been at rest 
for some time. 

Without warning, while Jameson was making some 
pencil sketches of the Solar system through the telescope, 
the planets and sun slid off to the left, leaving the field 
of the instrument. Jameson was nonplused for a mo- 
ment and then grasped a small hand instrument, caught 
the star, Sol, in the field, and was amazed to see the 
whole system apparently swinging away to the left. For 
a full minute he was speechless; suddenly the truth 
dawned — the Solar system was not veering to the left, 
cavorting off through space — the earth ship was off its 
path! Frantically Harry worked with the controls, all 
to no avail. The ship simply would not respond, and 
every minute the course away from Earth was widening 
and swinging away into space ! 

Down to Elam's room Jameson raced and burst in on 
the sleeping man. Quickly he related what had hap- 
pened, and Elam came rushing up to see for himself. By 
now they were headed way out into space, the Solar 
system behind to the left. 

"Now do as I say. Find out if the sphere ship is still 
attached to us, and report to me immediately," Elam 
commanded, and as Harry hurried away, the Erbian 
darted to the workroom of Bellant. The physicist was 
gone, and so were all of his effects. Even the machines 
he had been building lay wrecked and shattered. Elam 
slipped quickly into his own laboratory, closed the door, 
and made several rapid adjustments of dials and 
switches. Rapidly he made the changes, hesitated to 
see that they were correct, and hastened back to the 
observatory just in time to meet Jameson as he came in. 



COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 



69 



"It's gone! The whole ship is gone— cut away slick 
as a whistle — only a scar on the outer shell shows where 
they were. Say! You don't suppose — I'm going to 
see !" 

The words tumbled from Jameson as rapidly as possi- 
ble. 

"You needn't — he's gone. I just looked to see," said 
Elam. "All his notes, clothes, and delicate apparatus 
are gone, too. He is in the enemy sphere and it is his 
diabolical knowledge of electrical apparatus that is forc- 
ing us off our path. Let's have a look at the machinery 
of this ship." 

The two men rushed down into the machinery room, 
and were shocked to find the whole blue ball a-crackle 
with brilliant white sparks. 

"The infernal pup," shouted Jameson. "He means 
to drive us clear away from Earth, never to get back — 
but why?" 

"Can't you guess, man?" Elam yelled above the 
crackling noise. 

"Alice I" 

Harry nearly screamed the name and bolted away for 
the girl's room. Not waiting to open the lock, Jameson 
crashed through the panels of the door and stood horri- 
fied — the bed was empty, and all the wardrobe of the 
girl was gone — even to toilet articles. 

With a hoarse cry Jameson rushed to the obser- 
vation room. Still they were veered away from old 
Sol, large now before them. Again he tore at the con- 
trols, and again the ship refused to respond. 

"Will you avenge your sweetheart? You are doomed 
to travel throughout all space till you collide with some 
wandering body which annihilates you." 

It was the voice of Bellant, and as Jameson looked 
about, he spotted a new loud speaker in the room. Be- 
side it was a television screen. 

"Yes, it is Bellant speaking. You see me now? I 
am in the sphere ship — the one you call your enemy. 
Well, try to get at me now." 

A long laugh followed, and Jameson bounded across 
the room to demolish the screen where Bellant leered at 
him. Elam stepped in just in time to save the apparatus. 

"Let me alone — damn the beast — he has Alice. Let 
me at him !" roared the maddened man. 

"Be calm, Harry. That is only a television screen. 
Listen to Bellant; perhaps we can discover a way to 
check-mate him," Elam reasoned. 

"Yes, do be calm — but you'll never check-mate me — 
you are checking out. Here is someone you will be glad 
to see — for the last iime. See her?" and on the screen 
appeared the image of the sleeping face of Alice. 

"God give her strength ! Shut it off — I can't stand it ! 
Elam, smash the infernal thing!" 

A hollow laugh echoed from the loud speaker, and the 
mocking voice continued. 

"I am about to bring her out of her sleep — see the 
needle — recognize the flask of reviving drug? Oh! I 
thought so!" 

"God! He docs have the drug — all these people 
asleep, and he has that reviving drug! If only I could 
kill him — and Alice too, for I'd rather she were dead 
than in his hands," groaned Jameson, covering his 
face with his hands. 

"Are you in earnest — would you kill your sweetheart 
rather than allow her to be a slave to Bellant? Think 
quickly!" Elam said tensely. 



"Yes — anything but that she be with him. I*d kill her 
sooner, God forgive me. She would rather, I know. 
Oh, Elam, you don't know how dear she is to me. If 
only I could kill him." 

"Yes, if only you could!" said the mocking voice from 
the loud speaker. "Jameson, go to your telescope and 
train it on the Solar system. In the foreground you 
will find us — a little black dot— as we start on our first 
honeymoon voyage — not to earth at present, but shortly. 
Your machinery is wrecked, and ere long you will all die 
from some collision in space. My story shall be that I 
did all I could to save Alice, and that she was demented 
by the awful scene of your death — accidental, of course 
— while on Erb— a landslide killed all of you. Well, 
I shall now apply the needle." 

Jameson had been searching the space without, and ex- 
claimed as he found the black dot of the sphere ship 
way ofif toward the earth he seemed doomed never to 
see again. 

Suddenly Elam spoke. 

"Harry, if you would save the life of Alice, to be lived 
out with Bellant while you wander space till you die, 
speak quickly." 

"Never!" snapped the grief -stricken Jameson. 

"Then keep one eye on the sphere ship, and watch 
this television screen with the other. All right, Bellant. 
revive your prize — may she be your everlasting dam- 
nation." 

"I shall," cried the voice of Bellant, and the screen 
showed him plunging the needle home into the arm of 
the form which lay in his arms. 

For five seconds nothing happened ; then the lips of the 
figure smiled, stretched into a grin, and then into a leer. 
Without warning a flash of blue-white flame shot across 
the screen, a deafening crash came from the microphone, 
and then both went dead. Instantly Jameson turned to 
the telescope and caught the image of the far away 
sphere. As he centered it in his instrument, the glass- 
like surface of the enemy ship glowed to a brilliant 
white and with an enormous burst of blue and white 
spray, the whole ship shattered into cosmic dust. 

"My God !" the young astronomer slipped to the floor 
and his exclamation was a prayer uttered in complete 
agony, for he had killed the dearest person in the world 
to him. 

"Come, Harry^there is work to be done," said Elam. 
"All is not lost. I promise you joy greater than you ever 
knew before if you will follow my directions." 

"There is no joy for me now," the prostrate fellow 
cried. "I wish I might die, too." 

"What would you say if I told you that your sweet- 
heart lives — is near you now ?" 

"I don't believe those stories about spiritual life, Elam. 
Go away and leave me until I can collect my senses." 

"Harry Jameson, your sweetheart lives — she is not 
dead. I will show you, if you will only give me the 
chance. The body into which Bellant pushed the needle 
a moment ago was not your Alice. You will remember 
I told you I was working on a new servant? That was 
the servant — a replica of Alice, to all physical appear- 
ances. Really only a piece of flesh, scarcely alive, and 
loaded inside with a charge of the Erbian's most power- 
ful explosive. When the needle plunged into that life- 
less arm you saw on the television screen, it delivered 
not the life-giving drug you thought, but an exciting 
(Continued on page 85) 



In 



A Sequel to "The Drums of Tapajos" 



royana 

By Capt. S. P. Meek, U. S. A. 

Author of "The Murgatroyd Experiment," "Futility," etc. 
Part III 



What Went Before: 

FRANK NANKIVELL, Bob Mariston, and George Duncan, 
ex-army officers, and Ray Willis, veteran revolution pro- 
moter, penetrate into the tierra prohibitive/, a section of 
the Brazilian jungle lying between the Rio Tapajos and the Rio 
Xingtt. They find a strange city, named Troyana, which has 
been lost to the world for ages. It is peopled by a race of 
profound scientists, descendants of the ancient Trojans, who 
hold as slaves the descendants of the inhabitants of the lost 
Atlantis. They are hospitably received by Nahum, an official 
of the city. Nankivell falls in love with Estha, his host's 
granddaughter. 

Troyana is a benevolent autocracy ruled by the nobles under 
their Master. There are four classes of nobles, wearing purple, 
crimson, blue, and yellow robes respectively. Below these are 
the black-clad Burden Bearers, or Atlantean slaves. 

During an annual religious ceremony, the Adoration of the 
Golden Calf, a revolution breaks out headed by Amos, a crimson- 
robed traitor. The slaves capture the _ lower city, while the 
nobles hold the sanctuary in the upper city. The fight develops 
into a stalemate. 

Nahum learns of the attachment between Estha and Nankivell, 
and advises the strangers to leave Troyana. They do so, carry- 
ing Estha with them. The next afternoon she is recaptured 
while the rest sleep. 

That night Nankivell sees her in a vision as a captive of 
Amos. Without waking his companions, he steals all of the 
ammunition and returns to her rescue, despite the sentence of 
death passed on him if he returns. The others return to their 
homes. 

Nankivell gets to the lower city. Pressed by Burden Bearers, 
he descends into a labyrinth below the city, where he is menaced 
by giant toads and finds a race of richly clad people sleeping in 
huge crystal cylinders. He cannot open the cylinders and en- 
deavors to return to the sanctuary. He emerges from the laby- 
rinth to find himself in the jungle, where Gedaliah, the Warder 
of the Outer Ways of Troyana, is about to attack with his Indian 
guards, hoping to rescue the nobles. Nankivell attacks with 
them. 

They win through to the city, but at* captured by Amos. He 
offers them safety and rich rewards if they will join him^ but 
they refuse. By a ruse, which Estha is able to effect by virtue 
of her having been High Priestess of the Golden Calf at their 
annual religious ceremonies, she hypnotizes the slaves who 
are now on the side of the traitor Amos long enough to allow 
Nankivell and herself to escape to the sanctuary. Nankivell's 
return is condoned, but the Master refuses to permit his mar- 
riage to Estha until the rebellion is crushed. 

The energy and weapons of 1 Troyana are almost exhausted, 
Nankivell sends a radio message to Mariston and Willis asking 
them to return to the city, bringing cobalt, the substance from 
which the nobles of Troyana generate their energy by atomic 
disintegration. He has no way of knowing whether they receive 
his message. 

With all hope gone, Jereboam, a noble of the highest rank, 
tells of an ancient legend. It says that the court of Atlantis 
is in a state of suspended animation in huge crystal cylinders 
far below the city. Headed by Nahum and Nankivell, an 
expedition goes to the labyrinth below the city to wake the 
sleepers and ask their aid. 

The expedition is attacked by the Underground Dwellers, a 
race of giant toads, and wins through with heavy losses. They 
find the sleepers and awaken them. The Atlantean king agrees 
to aid them and send his subjects for cobalt. Instead of bring- 
ing it, they treacherously attack the nobles of Troyana with a 
paralyzing violet ray. Before they can take shelter, fully half of 
the expedition, including Nankivell, are paralyzed in their tracks. 



CHAPTER XIV 
Between Two Fires 

A PENCIL line of light sprang from Jereboani'a 
f\ flashtube. It fell full on the rigid form of 

/— -% Nankivell and Jereboam held his breath. 

1^ % Slowly movement returned to Nankivell's 

frozen limbs. Jereboam increased the flow 

of static electricity. Nankivell suddenly recovered and 

with a shout he raced to safety beside the Keeper of the 

Sacred Treasure. 

"Now it's my turn," he announced grimly. 

He disregarded the ray which was vainly seeking to 
penetrate to him through the protecting cylinder and 
coolly loaded his rifle. 

"Step out and draw their fire, Jereboam," he said. 

Without hesitation, Jereboam did as he was bid. The 
violet ray flashed toward him and enveloped him in a 
dim radiance. Hardly had it moved when Nankivell 
acted. He leaped out around the opposite side o£ the 
cylinder and threw his rifle to his shoulder. It sounded 
with a deafening crash. 

His aim was true. There was a flash from the ma- 
chine and the ray winked out. The Atlanteans who had 
been operating it turned and fled. 

"I guess it's war, red war !" cried Nankivell. 

He reloaded his rifle and took deliberate aim. The 
weapon roared twice and the Atlanteans were mere heaps 
of dead flesh. Lowering his rifle he picked up the flash- 
tube which Jereboam had used to counteract the effects 
of the violet ray. The stream of current was still play- 
ing from it and he directed it upon the form of the 
Keeper of the Sacred Treasure. In another moment, 
Jereboam had recovered the use of his limbs and was 
crouching behind the cylinder beside Nankivell. 

"Take the tube, Jereboam, and restore the rest of our 
men. I'll cover the door with my rifle." 

He raised the rifle to his shoulder while Jereboam 
restored Nahum, who lay nearest to them. As soon as 
the Junior Warder was able to use his limbs, he grasped 
a tube and assisted Jereboam in his work. From behind 
cylinders where they had sought refuge, the men of 
Troyana came forth. 

"Form up behind me and we'll rush that door !" cried 
Nahum. 

"You'll do no such fool thing !" retorted Nankivell 
sharply. "No one knows what is behind there. Cer- 
tainly that ray isn't their only weapon. Let one or two 
advance cautiously while the rest cover their advance 
with flashtubes. I'll do the same with my rifle." 




He shuddered as he thought of the thirty- 
five hundred steps before he started up 
the long ascent. . . . Nankivell dared 
not wait until they were close enough for 
accurate shooting. 



72 



AMAZING STORIES 



"You were ever wise in warfare, Brother Nankivell," 
said Nahura. "It shall be done as you suggest." 

At the word of command, two men, whose black robes 
bore a narrow crimson stripe, advanced slowly toward 
the opening, the others following in a thin line at ten 
paces distance. On the flank of the line walked Nanki- 
vell, his rifle held at the ready. 

Sixty of the hundred yards separating them from the 
door had been passed before the next attack came. With- 
out warning the two men in advance swayed for a mo- 
ment and then fell headlong. Nankivell saw a cloud of 
light green gas sweeping over the floor toward them. 

"Back!" he shouted. "Back, for your lives!" 

He set the example by a hasty retreat. Hardly had 
they reached the shelter of the cylinders than four of the 
Atlanteans appeared in the doorway holding in their 
hands long tubes mounted on stocks like rifles. They 
pointed the tubes toward the nobles of Troyana. 

"Scatter!" cried Nankivell. 

They scattered like dust and none too soon. From the 
tubes which the Atlanteans bore came a whistling hiss. 
Four sparks flew through the air. When they reached 
the spot where a moment before had been a closely 
packed group of men, they burst into thousands of tiny 
whirling fragments. Some of them struck their targets 
and howls of anguish rose from the unfortunates who 
were smitten by the strange weapons. 

Again Nankivell's rifle cracked. One of the Atlan- 
teans went down with a cry of agony. The others hasti- 
ly retreated out of sight before he could reload. He 
watched the doorway carefully, ready to fire instantly. 
Nahum came cautiously toward him. 

"What think you, Brother Nankivell?" he asked. "Can 
we dare to rush them? Could we get within range our 
flashtubes would be deadly, but I fear they would slay 
most if not all of us before we could do them damage." 

"I expect you're right," said Nankivell nervously, his 
eye never leaving the doorway. "The best thing is to 
cut and run. Gather our men together and make for 
the entrance where we came in. I'll hold the rear until 
you are all out and then I'll cut after you. Once in the 
labyrinth, we'll be able to hold our own. There are a 
dozen places between here and the city where they can't 
reach us with their weapons because of the curves in the 
path until they are within range of our weapons. Oh, 
you would, would you?" 

A man had reappeared in the doorway for an instant, 
a small object in his hand. He hurled it toward them. 
As he did so, Nankivell's rifle cracked and he went down 
in a heap. He started to crawl toward the doorway and 
Nankivell raised his rifle for a second shot. He lowered 
it without firing. 

"Let the poor devil go," he said. "He was probably 
only obeying orders. Anyway, I've too few cartridges 
left to waste any. Get the men together and start the 
retreat, Nahum. I can't hold them long." 

Nahum's voice rang out through the cavern. The no- 
bles of Troyana began to move slowly toward the lower 
end of the vast cavern. Nankivell kept his eyes fixed 
on the object which the Atlantean had thrown into the 
room. 

"Run!" he cried suddenly, bounding toward the dis- 
tant doorway. From the object was coming a cloud of 
pale green gas, spreading with frightful rapidity toward 
them. 

The men of Troyana needed no second word. Like 



frightened rabbits they fled toward the doorway and 
temporary safety. Nankivell ran last, looking backwards 
every few steps. It was well that he did so for three of 
the Atlanteans appeared in the doorway, the long tubes 
in their hands. Before they could discharge their death- 
dealing projectiles, Nankivell's rifle spoke. The two left 
standing beat a hasty retreat. 

THE way was long and weary, but the cavern en- 
trance yawned before them at last. As they plunged 
into its depths, Nankivell stopped for a last look down 
the long cavern. Across the upper end he could see a 
dozen figures racing toward the upper entrance. They 
were the men who had been restored to life while the 
first six were out getting ready their terrible weapons. 
Among them Nankivell could pick out the figure of the 
king. He dropped prone and covered the flying figure. 

"No," he said regretfully as he rose. "I've only got 
four cartridges left and I don't dare waste them. I'd 
probably miss a running man at that distance and I don't 
care to let them know that a rifle isn't infallible." 

He turned to Nahum. 

"You had better form our men in column again," he 
said. "Leave most of the charged tubes in the rear. I'll 
command the rear guard and hold the Atlanteans back 
on every curve until the main body rounds the next one. 
Then we'll retreat after you. I've got ten shells for my 
pistol and four for my rifle, so I can delay them a while. 
Look out for the Dwellers." 

Nahum formed his men in the formation suggested by 
Nankivell. With a dozen men the American held the 
rear while the balance made their way forward. 

"I don't think we'll have them after us for a while," 
said Nankivell to Mordecai, the leader of the detachment 
with him. "They'll stop to rouse a number of their com- 
rades before they start in pursuit. Our biggest danger 
will be from the Dwellers." 

Nankivell's prediction was borne out by subsequent 
events. No attack came from the rear. The column 
made its way forward at a good speed. Gradually the 
light faded out and all along the line, hand lights began 
to glow, 

"Look out for trouble !" he suddenly exclaimed. His 
nose had caught a whiff of the reptilian odor which 
marked the presence of the huge toads who had taken so 
heavy a toll of the column on its way out. 

Hardly had the words left his mouth than there came 
the crash of a flashtube from the main body ahead. The 
musky odor became nauseating. 

"Look sharp with the lights !" he cautioned. 

The little group of men under his command turned 
their lights nervously, first one way and then the other. 
Presently a vague form could be made out in the gloom 
ahead of them. 

"Charge him !" cried Nankivell, setting the example by 
running forward with a shout. The huge bulk retreated 
before him with a slight scuffling sound. The stench 
became almost intolerable. 

As he passed a cross corridor, a huge bulk lunged 
toward him, but Nankivell was not napping. His flash- 
tube roared and the Dweller was cast aside in a crumpled 
heap. From ahead of him could be heard the occasional 
roar of a tube, telling that the main body was not im- 
mune from attack. 

The bulk he was pursuing turned up N a cross passage. 
Nankivell approached cautiously, his tube held ready. He 



TROYANA 



73 



.shot bis light down the route which the Dweller had 
taken but saw nothing. A slight scuffling sound behind 
him made his hair stand on end and chills run up his 
spine. He whirled about but before he could complete 
the movement a flashtube roared behind him. 

"The way is clear, Brother Nankivell," came Mor- 
decai's calm voice. 

"Thanks," said Nankivell. "We had better catch up 
with the main body. I think the Dwellers are enough 
protection for our rear just now." 

Abandoning all efforts to guard the way behind them, 
the rearguard raced forward, ever on the alert for the 
approach of the huge toads. Presently a flash and a roar 
a hundred yards ahead told them that they had almost 
closed the gap which separated them from the main 
body. 

Nankivell looked back along the way they had come. 
Through the darkened passage, a slender pencil ray of 
violet light made itself dimly visible in the gloom. 

"Here they come," he cried. "Mordecai and one other 
stay with me. The rest join Nahum. I'll try to stop 
them." 

He dropped prone, his rifle stock cuddled against his 
cheek. The source of the violet light came nearer. Now 
it was only a hundred yards away. Beside him, prone 
on the floor, their lights extinguished, lay his two com- 
panions. Nankivell could not see the source of the violet 
light but he knew pretty well where it must be. He lined 
his rifle as carefully as he could in the darkness and with 
a prayer, squeezed his trigger. 

There was a flash of orange light and an ear-splitting 
crack. From up the tunnel came a cry of pain and the 
violet light veered wildly. Again Nankivell fired. The 
light dropped to the floor and he could hear the sound 
of running feet. He rose to go forward but there came 
the fateful hissing sound he had heard in the vast cavern, 
only now a hundred times intensified. Through the 
dark a tiny spark wended its way toward him. 

He sprang to the side of the cavern, realizing the use- 
lessness of the move. When that spark burst, everything 
within a radius of a hundred yards would be struck 
by the tiny whirling sparks whose touch meant agony 
unspeakable. Suddenly the spark died away. There was 
a hiss and an overwhelming reek of fetor. Nankivell 
turned on his light. One of the huge Dzvellers had been 
creeping up in the darkness and the strange missile had 
struck it fairly. 

"Never thought I'd learn to love one of those things," 
he said whimsically, "but if I had time, I'd go back and 
drop a tear on his ugly carcass. Come on, men, the war 
is over for a minute. Let's retreat to the next turn and 
make another stand." 

With Mordecai and his companion ahead of him, 
Nankivell sprinted up the tunnel. He dared not turn on 
his light and prayed fervently as he ran that none of the 
Dwellers would choose that moment for an attack. Luck 
was with him and he rounded the next curve and saw the 
lights of the main column a hundred yards ahead of him. 

"Speed up your retreat, Nahum!" he cried. "The 
Atlanteans are after us." 

"We are almost beyond the region of the Under- 
ground Dwellers," was the- welcome answer. "If you 
can hold them back for another half mile, we will be in 
the safe region." 

"I'll hold them as long as the ammunition holds out," 
replied Nankivell. "The next time I'll let them come 



to close quarters and use my pistol more effectively." 

The column went on leaving the three men alone in the 
dark. Around the corner a dim glow of violet light 
could be seen. He drew his pistol and slipped off the 
safety. There was a dull thud in the darkness and then 
silence. Suddenly his nose caught a whiff of a strange 
sweet odor. He sniffed again and his head swam and his 
senses reeled. With a sudden suspicion he turned on his 
light. Twenty yards ahead of him on the floor lay a 
small globe from which pale green gas was slowly ooz- 
ing. 

"Run !" he gasped, staggering to his feet. 

Mordecai rose feebly but the other man did not stir. 
Nankivell stooped and grasped him by the collar. The 
man was slight and with an effort of which he had not 
known himself capable, Nankivell threw the man over 
his shoulder and staggered at a feeble trot up the corri- 
dor toward Troyana. 

He had gone less than a hundred yards when a beam 
of pale violet light pierced the darkness over his head. 
He dumped his burden on the ground and whirled about. 
The source of the light had rounded the curve. He 
raised his pistol and fired. 

Again there came a sound of retreating feet and the 
light winked out. Nankivell shouldered the unconscious 
form of his follower and staggered on. He made his 
way for four hundred yards before he came to another 
bend in the tunnel. He dropped his burden and bent 
over it, his ear at the man's chest. 

"Farewell, Brother," he said sadly as he raised his 
head. "May the Great Architect bless and receive you 
and may your years in the place where you have gone be 
happy ones." 

With a sudden thought he raised the body of the dead 
man and held it before him like a shield. 

"Run, Mordecai!" he exclaimed. "Join Nahum and 
tell him that I will hold the rear alone. Bid him haste 
all he can." 

The Planner demurred, but Nankivell spoke per- 
emptorily. 

"Obey my orders !" he said. "Alone I may be able 
to hold them. With the added care of you, I could do 
nothing. Go !" 

Mordecai turned and fled up the tunnel. Nankivell 
lifted the body of the dead man and moved forward 
around the curve. In the distance he could see the flicker 
of the deadly violet beam. 

Nearer it came until it was only thirty yards from 
him. The wandering beam picked him out and played 
over the dead body. Nankivell crouched behind it pray- 
ing that it would not penetrate the flesh. He felt a sud- 
-den numbness in his side as the beam found an unpro- 
tected spot. The beam raised and played over the rest of 
the tunnel. Presently it winked out. Footsteps ap- 
proached slowly. He gripped his pistol and waited. 

THE oncoming Atlantean was less than ten feet from 
him when Nankivell fired. There was a crash as 
the man fell. Without a pause Nankivell fired twice 
more down the cavern. Screams of pain rewarded him. 
Again came a sharp hiss, but Nankivell was on his feet 
and running for dear life. He rounded the curve before 
the spark burst, sending its thousands of sparks of de- 
struction in all directions. 

"I think that'll hold them for a while," he muttered. 
"It's lucky those big toads haven't complicated matters 



74 



AMAZING STORIES 



more. Now if I can catch up with Nahum before he is 
too far away." 

He ran at his best speed up the tunnel. It began t i 
slope upward and his breath came hard. He rounded a 
curve and found himself in a tunnel barely ten feet 
across. A hundred and fifty yards ahead of him 
marched the main body. 

"I think I've stopped them for the present," he said to 
Nahum as he panted up, "but they'll come on again. If 
we can reach the sanctuary and close the door on them 
we'll get a breathing space at least. How many men 
did you lose on the passage?" 

"Eight," said Nahum sadly. "Seven taken by the 
Dwellers and one smitten by a poorly aimed flashtube. 
The stairs are but a few hundred yards ahead. It is 
while we climb them that the Atlantean will have their 
chance to make an end of us." 

"Not necessarily," said Nankivell cheerfully. "I still 
have a few shots left and I think I have them pretty 
well buffaloed. I'll go last and take an occasional pot- 
shot at them if they get too frisky. Climbing the stairs 
is going to be the hard task. I doubt whether all of us 
can make it." 

"Those to whom the Great Architect gives strength 
will win through to safety," replied Nahum. "We are 
all in His hands." 

Before them loomed the flights of steps. Nankivell 
shuddered as he thought of the thirty-five hundred steps 
before them. He looked back along the route they had 
come. In the distance flickered the deadly violet light. 

"Forward !" he cried. "There is no time for loiter- 
ing." : 1 

The column started up the long ascent. Nankivell 
climbed slowly in order to keep his hand steady. He had 
mounted two hundred steps before the violet light 
reached the bottom of the flight. Now it started to 
mount but it was no longer playing about as it had been. 
It held a straight course and one which it was easy to 
avoid. Crouched on one side of the steps, Nankivell 
waited. 

When he judged that the light was within sixty steps 
of him, he raised his rifle to his shoulder. Steadily he 
squeezed his trigger. From the source o t the light came 
a brilliant purple flash and then darkness. A sound as 
of men in agony reached him. A lucky shot had wrecked 
the device which had been brought after them. He raised 
his rifle again and fired his last remaining shot into the 
huddle of dark forms he could dimly see below him. 
There was a sound of a body falling and he knew that 
his last shot had been a good one. He raised his rifle 
to hurl it down toward them but a thought made him 
pause. 

"If they find the empty gun, they'll know I'm out of 
ammunition and they'll come right on," he reflected. 
"It's an awful weight to carry up these long stairs with 
me, but I don't dare discard it. Well, here goes." 

He turned and went rapidly up the three hundred re- 
maining steps of the flight. As he reached the top he 
paused, almost exhausted. 

"Whew!" he cried. "I had no idea that climbing was 
such hard work. If I hadn't been doped up by Jereboam 
two years ago, I'd never be able to make it." 

He paused to recover his breath before he made his 
way along the level space which separated the flights. 
The main body was half way up the next set of steps. 
He stopped and waited, pistol in hand, until the end of 



the column had climbed to the top. Dim as the light was 
in the lower stretches, his eyes, so long accustomed to 
darkness, could see plainly. When the main body had 
disappeared on the level stretch, he started his climb. 

Again he thought that his legs would fail him before 
he surmounted the last of the five hundred steps, but 
grim necessity drove him on. At the top he paused. 

"I'll make a stand here," he said. "They'll meet with 
no opposition on the second flight and they'll come on 
more carelessly." 

He lay prone and watched down the steps. Presently 
the forms of his pursuers came into view, climbing 
slowly as though they bore heavy weights. When they 
were within thirty steps of the top they paused. Nanki- 
vell could see that the three men in the front rank bore 
the long tubes from which had come the deadly sparks. 
After a consultation, one of them raised a tube to his 
shoulder. Nankivell dared wait no longer. He leveled 
his pistol and fired. 

HIS aim was good. With a choking cry, the gunner 
threw up his arms and fell backwards, carrying 
another man with him in his fall. Nankivell fired again 
and one of the remaining gunners sank with a groan. 
The third raised his weapon and Nankivell spent another 
of his few remaining rounds. The man dropped his 
tube and grasped at his shoulder. Nankivell leaped to 
his feet and fled along the level toward the third flight. 

His marksmanship had been good enough to stop the 
pursuit for a time and he climbed two flights, well behind 
the main body, before there was a sign of continuing 
pursuit. 

This time the Atlanteans changed their tactics. In- 
stead of coming on in a compact group, they scattered, 
the gunners in front. At each hundred steps they would 
pause and fire upward a volley of their deadly sparks 
which would burst into fragments, each of them loaded 
with suffering and death. Nankivell dared not wait 
until they were close enough for accurate shooting. 
When they were, as nearly as he could judge, a hundred 
and fifty steps below him, he fired one of his four re- 
maining loads. He aimed low and he could hear the 
ricocheting bullet whine through the air. The Atlanteans 
dropped in their tracks like one man. 

Again Nankivell fired and this time his shot took 
effect. An Atlantean gave a cry of pain and leaped con- 
vulsively upward. A volley of sparks flew upward and 
burst below him. One spark fell on him and Nankivell 
bit his lips to keep from screaming in agony as it touched 
him. The gunners were preparing to fire again. He 
leaped to his feet and fled as fast as his wearied limbs 
would allow. 

At the top of the fifth flight he turned and dropped 
prone, his heart pounding as though it would burst. 
Again the Atlanteans came resolutely ahead in a scat- 
tered formation. 

"I can't stop them much longer," sobbed Nankivell 
through set teeth. "I'll give them the two shots I have 
left and hope it will hold them until we can win through 
to safety." 

He rested his pistol oh the top step and took deliber- 
ate aim. His pursuers were climbing slowly, stopping 
every fifty steps to send a volley of deadly sparks ahead 
of them. Again he let them come within a hundred and 
fifty steps before he fired. 

At his first shot one of the gunners dropped in a heap 



TROYANA 



75 



and slipped slowly down the stairs. _ Sparks flew up to- 
ward him but fortunately they burst behind him and he 
was not harmed. With a prayer on his lips, he fired his 
last shot, A gunner rose to his feet with a shriek and 
plunged down the long flight. Nankivell rose deliber- 
ately and started down the stairs. 

He had gone but ten steps when the Atlanteans rose 
-with one accord and fled back down. Nankivell did not 
press his advantage. As soon as the retreat was well 
started, he retraced his steps and made his way slowly 
and with infinite difficulty up the sixth of the seven 
flights leading to the sanctuary and, he hoped, to safety. 
As he surmounted the last of the steps he found the 
main body waiting for him. 

"I fear we can not climb the last flight unaided," 
gasped Nahum as Nankivell joined them. "Can you 
hold them for ten minutes?" 

"My last shot has been fired," replied Nankivell. "We 
must press on, else death is our portion." 

A groan greeted his words. It was checked by an ex- 
clamation from Jereboam. 

"Succor!" he cried. "Look! One comes from the 
sanctuary I" 

Down the flight of steps came a blue-clad Planner 
at break-neck speed. Nahum rose and made his way 
slowly up the steps to meet him, the others trailing after 
him, many of them on all fours. 

The Planner raced down and came to a pause before 
Nahum. 

"Have you brought aid and comfort, Junior 
Warder?" he gasped. 

"Alas, no, I bring only added peril," replied Nahum. 

"Then is Troyana indeed doomed !" cried the mes- 
senger. 

"What mean you?" demanded Nahum while a mur- 
mur rose from the men. 

"Our store of energy is completely gone," was the 
answer. "Not one atom remains in the sanctuary. The 
cohorts of Amos have battered in the walls of the upper 
city and are now hammering at the door of the sanctuary 
itself!" 

CHAPTER XV 
Rescue 

THERE was a moment of silence as the messenger 
cried his words of doom. It was broken by 
Nahum's voice. 

"To the sanctuary 1" he cried hoarsely. 

Forgotten were fatigue and aching muscles. Forgot- 
ten were the ruthless enemies behind them. In the mind 
of each noble of Troyana was but one thought, to get 
to the sanctuary and to interpose his body between the 
cohorts of Amos and the Holy of Holies in the assem- 
bly hall. As one man they raced up the long weary flight 
of stairs, sobbing with weariness, yet held to their high 
purpose by the ingrained training of centuries. 

Foremost in the race were Nahum and Nankivell. 
The aged Junior Warder was driven by his loyalty to 
Troyana and to the high order of which he was a mem- 
ber. Nankivell was impelled by a different motive. Be- 
fore his mind's eye floated a sickening vision — Estha 
helpless in the hands of the degenerate Bearers of 
Burdens. 

The ascent seemed endless. It required a separate 
effort of his will for Nankivell to mount each one of the 



steps. His heart pounded until it seemed that it would 
burst through his ribs. His breath came in sobbing 
gasps. Yet, strive as he would, Nahum kept three steps 
ahead of him and was the first to mount the last step. 
Without a pause he raced along the level corridor which 
led to the entrance to the beleaguered citadel. 

As Nankivell's feet reached the level he stumbled and 
fell for an instant on one knee. As he rose he was 
tempted again to throw away the useless rifle which 
bore him down as though it weighed a hundred pounds. 
He paused for an instant before he threw it down. Then 
with an expression of grim determination he slung the 
weapon back over his shoulder and ran as best he could 
after the flying figure of the Junior Warder. 

On the level, Nankivell's younger muscles stood him 
Jn good stead. He was abreast of Nahum when they 
came to the gap in the rock through which they had 
passed to descend into the regions below the lower city. 
Side by side they dashed into the sanctuary. 

A cry of dismay broke from Nahum's lips and was 
reechoed by Nankivell. The situation was even worse 
than the message of ill omen they had heard had led 
them to believe. Through a gap which had been battered 
in the walls of the sanctuary itself poured a stream of 
black-clad figures. Evidently Amos' supply of energy 
was exhausted as well as that of his opponents for no 
crash of flashtubes was heard. With sword, club, and 
axe, the Burden Bearers attacked the thin line of bril- 
liantly clad nobles who opposed them. 

Crimson, blue and yellow were mingled indiscrimi- 
nately in the bitterly held battle line. The nobles were 
outnumbered three to one and still through that gap 
in the wall, more black-clad figures poured. With a 
cry, Nahum drew his sword and dashed forward to take 
his place in the line of battle. Nankivell glanced at his 
useless weapons with a groan. 

"Oh, for just one bandolier of ammunition!" he cried. 
"Well, anyway, a Springfield makes a good club." 

Grasping his useless weapon by the muzzle he threw 
himself into the fight. He found himself beside Zepha- 
niah. The Master was endeavoring with a short sword, 
in the use of which he was none too expert, to defend 
himself against the attack of two men armed with heavy 
axes. As Nankivell reached him, his guard was broken 
down and a heavy axe swept down toward his head. 
Nankivell thrust forward the stock of his rifle and de- 
flected the blow. Stepping back a step he swung the 
weapon. It crashed down on the head of his assailant. 
At the same instant, Zephaniah's sword was driven home 
in the body of the other attacker. 

"You come in good time, Brother," gasped the Master. 
"Have you word of cheer?" 

"None, Most Worshipful Sir. Other enemies are at 
our heels with strange and terrible weapons." 

"Then must we retreat while we may," replied Zepha- 
niah. 

They had drawn back from the front of the battle line. 
The Master swept a keen eye up and down the line. The 
nobles, reinforced by the men who had accompanied 
Nahum into the lower regions, were momentarily hold- 
ing their own. Men in black robes with only a narrow 
band of color about their necks to mark their exalted 
rank were still pouring through the doorway which led 
to the chamber where the court of Atlantis slept. And 
now came a sudden diversion which gave his forces an 
advantage. 



76 



AMAZING STORIES 



As Nahum's men joined the line, a flashtube crashed. 
A dozen men who were in front of the heavy charge of 
static electricity went down as though a thunderbolt had 
smitten them. The first crash was followed by another 
and yet another until all along the line tubes flashed and 
roared. The front rank of Amos* forces was swept 
away and tossed into heaps, mere husks of quivering 
scorched flesh. Above the din could be heard Nahum's 
voice. 

"Forward !" he cried. "Sweep the scum back to their 
haunts !'* 

A cheer answered his words. More crashes of dis- 
charging tubes filled the air with a roar of sound. Sword 
in hand the nobles pressed forward. For a moment it 
looked as though they would be victorious and again 
hurl their attackers out of the sacred precincts they had 
dared to profane. 

There was a sudden cessation of the sound of dis- 
charging tubes. The nobles still pressed forward, but 
the Burden Bearers no longer retreated. Behind them 
stood a figure, attired in the crimson robes of the cryp- 
tic rite and with the golden jewel of a Master flashing 
on his breast. 

"Their tubes are exhausted I" he shouted. "Now they 
are at your mercy! One more charge and we possess the 
upper city. Forward !" 

"Amos!" cried Nankivell. 

He searched frantically in his pockets, hoping against 
hope that he would find an overlooked cartridge, but his 
hope was vain. The black-clad line surged forward, 
driving back the defenders of the sanctuary by sheer 
weight of numbers. An inspiration came to Nankivell. 

"Where are the women ?" he shouted to Zephaniah. 

"In the assembly hall!" 

Nankivell drew back from the battle line and raced at 
top speed toward the inner hall where stood the Holy 
of Holies, the great altar of Troyana. 

He burst through the half dozen men who guarded it. 
Inside were a crowd of women and children, on their 
knees praying silently for their men who battled to the 
death outside. He looked around but could not find the 
one he sought. 



STHA !" he shouted. 

"Here, Frank," answered a clear voice as Estha 



"E 

rose from her knees. 

"The other pistol, quick!" he panted. "If I can 
shoot Amos, we may turn the tide yet." 

She handed the weapon to him. He paused for an 
instant to snatch a hurried kiss before he dashed out 
into the battle which waged in the courtyard. Amos 
was still in plain sight, urging forward his minions. 

Nankivell opened the pistol and gave an exclamation 
of disappointment. He had thought that he had left 
two cartridges in it, but there was only one. If he used 
it to end Amos' evil career, there would be no sudden 
and merciful death for his beloved when the last barrier 
was smashed and the hordes of Burden Bearers poured 
into the assembly hall to work their will on the women 
of their masters. 

"Too bad, but it can't be helped," he muttered. "Kill- 
ing him ts our best chance." 

He moved forward until he was in the thick of the 
fight. Amos stood motionless, barely thirty yards from 
him. He could get no closer safely. He raised the 
pistol and carefully aligned the sights on the center of 



the renegade's broad chest. He slowly tightened his 
grasp. There was a sharp crack as the weapon went 
off. Nankivell hurled it to the ground with a cry of 
rage. Just as he fired, one of the combatants lurched 
against him. His lone bullet had gone wide of the mark. 

A blow fell on the back of his head and he lurched 
forward. In an instant he w'as surrounded by black- 
clad figures who thrust at him with swords and daggers 
and strove to reach him with their axes. Their very 
numbers hindered them so that for an instant he was 
unharmed. A sword hit home in his thigh and he dropped 
on one knee. His hand came in contact with an axe 
which had fallen from the hand of a smitten man and 
he staggered to his feet, the weapon in his hand. 

The close-packed ring about him gave back as a huge 
Atlantean rushed at him, a heavy axe lifted above his 
head. Nankivell dodged back and the axe swept harm- 
less through the air. He leaped to one side as well as 
his crippled leg would allow and smote in turn, but his 
weakened leg would not support him and he went down. 
With a diabolical grin, the Atlantean raised his axe for 
a second stroke. Nankivell shut his eyes, but before 
the blow could fall, a sword flashed across him and 
buried itself to the hilt in the black-clad body. 

Nankivell staggered to his feet, axe in hand, Beside 
him stood Nahum, holding a bloody sword. 

"To my back !" the Junior Warder shouted. 

Nankivell obeyed. Back to back the two men fought, 
Nahum's sword a whirling circle of steel while Nanki- 
vell's rose and fell with deadly effect. Two men could 
not long wage battle against such odds, but help was 
close at hand. There was a sudden surge and a group of 
yellow-clad figures burst through the sombre ring. They 
circled the two men and bore them back to the battle 
line where the retreating nobles were doggedly con- 
testing every step of the way. 

The odds had grown until five Burden Bearers op- 
posed every one of the higher degrees. By sheer weight 
of numbers they forced them back until the nobles were 
gathered in a circle about the wide doors of the assembly 
hall. 

The shouting had long since died out. There was no 
breath to waste in vain cries in that terrible struggle. 
Only the ring of steel on steel and the dull thud of 
falling axes could be heard with now and then an in- 
voluntary cry of anguish from a wounded man. 

No quarter was asked or given. If a noble fell be- 
neath the feet of his former slaves, he knew his fate. A 
sword or an axe ended his life if he were sorely wound- 
ed. If not, he was dragged to the rear, doomed to be 
offered as a sacrifice to that grotesque travesty in the 
lower city, before which the Burden Bearers celebrated 
their depraved worship. The Atlanteans were waging 
a grim war of extermination on those who had held 
them in subjection and bred them like cattle for count- 
less generations. 

The circle of the altar's defenders grew steadily 
smaller as man after man fell before the dogged attack 
of the Atlanteans, Still there was no thought of sur- 
render and each man fell on the ground where he 
stood and another stepped forward to take his place. 
Nankivell drew back from the front line for an instant 
and looked around. A cry of dismay and horror came 
from his parched lips. Through the gap in the stone 
which led to the lower regions emerged a line of men 
attired in leather harness sparkling with brilliant gems 



TROYANA 



77 



and with short cloaks of vivid colors hanging from their 
golden collars. In the hands of the foremost were long 
thin tubes somewhat resembling rifles. The long-sleep- 
ing king of Atlantis had come to the aid of the descend- 
ants of his abandoned subjects. 

At Kankivell's cry there was a momentary pause in 
the fighting. Both sides looked at the newcomers anx- 
iously. The Burden Bearers feared that their former 
masters had obtained assistance, while only those who 
had fought underground with Nahum knew who the 
newcomers were. 

A word of command barked sharply through the 
silence. The gunners raised their long tubes. 

"Fly!" cried Nankivell. "Into the assembly hall and 
close the doors or all is lost." 

The last part of his speech was drowned in a sharp, 
long-drawn-out hiss. From the threatening tubes came 
a volley of bright sparks which sailed through the air 
toward the defenders of the altar. Just before they 
reached their goal they burst and the air was filled with 
thousands of whirling motes of light. They settled on 
friend and foe alike. 

Now the battlefield rang with screams of agony from 
the unfortunates who were struck by those whirling 
motes. They rolled on the ground in almost unsupport- 
able agony. 

Above the screams sounded another hoarse word of 
command. The gunners raised their tubes again. A 
shudder ran through the ranks of the Troyana nobles, 
helpless against this horrible weapon. The seconds 
seemed to be years in length. Nankivell felt that he 
could no longer stand the strain and that a scream 
would burst from his lips despite himself unless his tor- 
tured mind gave way before the horror he knew was 
coming. The Atlantean king raised his hand. His lips 
opened to give the word of command which would send 
another volley of death-dealing missiles into the ranks 
of Troyana. 

Through the silence came a sharp crack. Before 
Nankivell's astonished gaze the Atlantean king spun 
around and fell headlong, the command ungiven. An- 
other vicious report split the air and one of the gunners 
threw up his arms and fell backwards. As he did so there 
was a sharp hiss from his tube. A spark left it and 
traveled straight up. It burst and showered the whirl- 
ing motes of light down on the adherents of the king 
of Atlantis. 

With growing wonder Nankivell whirled about. In 
the doorway of the assembly hall, standing on the top- 
most of the seven steps which separated the doorway 
from the courtyard were two figures. In their hands 
were rifles from which a steady stream of fire now 
poured on the remnants of the court of Atlantis. 

"Bob Mariston 1" he cried, unable to believe his eyes. 
"Ray Willis!" he shouted as he recognized the second 
figure. 

He turned and hobbled up the stairs, unslinging his 
rifle from his back as he did so. 

"Give me ammunition!" he cried. 

Mariston ceased his fire long enough to unsling a 
bandolier, and toss it to him. 

"Don't waste a shot, youngster!" he cried as he re- 
loaded his rifle and fired again and again at the retreating 
invaders from the lower levels. 

Now there were three rifles pouring in a deadly hail 
of missiles and the remnants of the Atlantean king's 



court were crowding one another to win through the 
narrow gap in the rock to comparative safety. In an- 
other moment they were gone. 

The three riflemen turned their weapons on the ranks 
of the Burden Bearers. They fired rapidly but their 
volume of fire was too small to have much effect on the 
hundreds of black-clad figures who had followed Amos 
from the lower city. With the menace of the Atlantean 
nobles removed, the attack was resumed. Desperately 
as they fought, the nobles were still being driven back, 
despite the withering fire of the rifles. 

Two figures detached themselves from the battle line 
and raced toward the assembly hall. They came to a 
halt before the newcomers. 

"Brought you energy, Worshipful Brother?" cried 
one to Mariston. 

"Oh, hello, Nahum," answered Mariston. "Fraternal 
greetings, Most Worshipful Sir. Yes, I've got thirty 
pounds of the stuff in my pack here." 

"Then Troyana is saved !" was the joyous rejoinder 
of Nahum and Zephaniah. 

Mariston grounded his rifle and slid out of the sus- 
penders of his pack. He tossed it to Nahum. The 
Junior Warder fumbled with the straps for an instant 
and then rose, the light of victory in his eyes. 

"It is here !" he cried. "Come, we will start the pro- 
jectors 1" 

Followed by Zephaniah, he ran behind the battle line 
toward the room which housed the emergency power 
unit adjoining the assembly hall. The two men disap- 
peared from view. Mariston raised his rifle and re- 
sumed firing. 

For another five minutes the battle raged. Then from 
a huge tube mounted on top of the power unit came a 
fierce red light. Like an avenging flame it swept down 
on the ranks of the Burden Bearers and in its wake was 
death and destruction. Robes burst into flames and a 
sickening smell of burning flesh permeated the air. With 
cries of terror, the cohorts of Amos turned and fled, 

A second ray joined the first. Side by side the two 
beams of red swung over the battlefield and where they 
passed was left no living thing. The Burden Bearers 
left alive fled with cries of fear through the gap they had 
made in the sanctuary walls and sought haven in the 
lower levels. In a minute the courtyard was free from 
living enemies. 

The rifle fire had ceased. There was nothing left to 
shoot at. Nankivell grounded his rifle and wrung Maris- 
ton and Willis by the hand. 

"You got my message?" he asked uselessly. "Of 
course, I know you did. I was sure you'd come, but 
you sure got here in the nick of time. Another ten min- 
utei and it would have been just too bad." 

"Glad to see you, old man," cried Mariston, his arm 
about Nankivell's shoulder. "Ray and I were afraid 
it was your ghost when we heard your voice on Dune's 
trick receiver. We started at once and we won through, 
although we lost every man of our followers." 

"Let me ask you a question," broke in Willis. "Did 
you rescue Estha all right? We'd have come after you 
that morning if you hadn't stolen all of the ammunition 
we had." 

"Yes, Estha is safe," replied Nankivell. "Of course 
you'd have come, you darned fool, but I did better alone. 
I knew what I was about." 

"For a wonder," laughed Willis. 



78 



AMAZING STORIES 



"I suppose you and Estha are married long ago?" 

Nankivell's face fell. 

"No," he said, "we aren't. The Master couldn't see 
it, at least not until Amos was defeated and our rule was 
reestablished." 

"In that case, I hear wedding bells chiming," said 
Willis with a chuckle. "How about it, Bob?" 

"I hope so," laughed Mariston. His face grew sud- 
denly sober and he looked at Nankivell. 

"Frank," he said hesitatingly, "Balkis — " 

"Is still alive and will probably thrash you for not 
coming back with me two years ago. She — " 

Zephaniah stood before them. 

"Worshipful Brother Mariston, and you, Brother Wil- 
lis," he said ceremoniously, "to you are the thanks of 
Troyana due for your rescue of her in her extremity. No 
gift that our city affords will be denied you. You have 
but to ask and you shall receive." 

"We'll talk that over later, Most Worshipful Sir," 
said Mariston brusquely. "Meanwhile Brother Willis 
has another thirty pounds of cobalt. You had better 
take it and get busy. There is work yet to be done!" 

"Work?" asked Zephaniah in puzzled tone as he took 
the pack which Willis handed him and tossed it to a 
Planner who stood near by. 

"Yes, important work. You've got Amos on the run ; 
now keep after him. Don't give him a chance to bolster 
up his men's morale which is shot to pieces right now. 
Gather every man and we'll go after him where he lives. 
Get your flashtubes ready." 

A sudden glow illuminated the Master's face. 

"Those are words of wisdom," he said. "Every flash- 
tube is empty, but with the energy you have brought, we 
can recharge them all in an hour. Then we will be ready 
to march." 

"Meanwhile," added Nankivell, "you had better close 
that door through which we went down below." 

"That is being done by Brother Jereboam," replied 
the Master. "He will close it and also drop fourteen 
emergency doors, each one hundred feet thick, at the 
top and bottom of each flight of steps leading below. We 
need fear nothing further from that quarter. Now if 
Brothers Mariston and Willis will come with me, we 
will prepare for the attack." 

"After we settle Amos we'll talk about what to do to 
those chaps down below." said Nankivell. "Meanwhile, 
you can load the flashtubes without us. I want to see 
Estha and I fancy that my friends have someone they 
would like to see as well. We'll be ready to march as 
soon as you get the flashtubes charged." 

"In an hour we will be ready to storm Amos' strong- 
hold." replied the Master. 

CHAPTER XVI 

Balkis 

WITH Mariston and Willis at his heels, Nankivell 
led the way toward the door of the assembly 
hall. They walked through cheering ranks of 
Planners and Craftsmen who strove to do honor to their 
rescuers. As they passed through the doorway into the 
vast hall, the din of cheering was left behind. In the 
inner shrine, the entire concourse were on their knees 
while Jereboam stood before the altar, offering thanks to 
the Great Architect for the aid he had vouchsafed the 



city. They paused until the prayer was ended. As the 
kneeling throng rose to their feet, Nankivell spoke. 

"Estha!" he called. 

Jereboam turned at the words and saw them. 

"Honor be to those to whom honor is done !" He cried 
in a ringing voice. 

"Women of Troyana, do honor to Worshipful 
Brother Mariston and to Brother Willis for the trials 
they have undergone and for the aid they have rendered." 

"Oh, stow that," exclaimed Willis uncomfortably. 

Mariston grinned at him quizzically. 

"Better get used to it, Ray," he advised laughingly. 
"They're going to make a hero of you in spite of all you 
say or do, so you might just as well like it." 

Four of the women came forward. Before Mariston 
they dropped on their knees while one of them spoke. 
"Worshipful Sir," she said, "the humble thanks of the 
women of Troyana " 

"Help!" cried Mariston faintly, while Willis and 
Nankivell grinned. 

"Better get used to it, Bob," said the latter. 

Mariston stepped forward and raised the leader of the 
deputation from her knees. 

"I appreciate your gratitude," he said, "but really, 
you're thanking the wrong man. Ray Willis is the 
man who is really responsible for our being here. Please 
favor him with your attention for a while. He likes it. 
Brother Nankivell and I have serious business to at- 
tend to." 

The woman caught Willis' hand and raised it to her 
lips. Mariston and Nankivell hurried away with Wil- 
lis' cry of "double-crossers" ringing in their ears. 

"It ivas a dirty trick, Frank," chuckled Mariston, 
"but I know you went to see Estha and I've waited two 
years to see Balkis. I wonder where she is." 

"We'll find out from Estha, old man. She's in the 
alcove to the north of the oriental throne. Now buck 
up, for I think you have another installment of hero- 
worship coming. Such are the penalties of grandeur." 

He led the way to the alcove where Estha was wait- 
ing, her face aglow with joy mingled with anxiety. 

"Are you hurt, Frank?" was her first question. 

"Nothing serious," he replied. "I got a dig in my leg 
that I'll let you bandage, although it has quit bleeding 
already. If it hadn't been for Bob Mariston here, my 
name would have been Dennis sure enough. I really 
think you had better go down on your knees to thank 
him. He expects it and he likes that sort of stuff." 

He winked as he spoke. Estha and a girl who stood 
behind her in the dark shadows dropped on their knees. 
Estha reached for Mariston's hand with the evident in- 
tention of kissing it. 

"Frank Nankivell, I'll wring your neck !" cried Maris- 
ton as he leaped for his companion. 

"You're a hero, any way you look at it, Bob," cried 
Nankivell as he dodged the attack. "You might just 
as well like it. Come on, Estha, we'll leave Worshipful 
Brother Bob to the tender mercies of his admirers for 
a while. I want you to bind up my leg." 

He caught her by the hand and lifted her to her feet. 
With a parting laugh at Mariston's rueful countenance, 
he led her away to the main hall, leaving Mariston to 
face the still kneeling girl. 

"Really now," protested Mariston, "I wish you 
wouldn't kneel to me like that. I'm not used to it, and 
besides " 



TROYANA 



79 



His voice trailed off into silence as the girl looked 
up. He stared at her unbelievingly for an instant and 
then a wave of color passed over his face. 

"Balkis !" he cried. 

Balkis looked at him shyly. 

"May I not thank you, Worshipful Sir," she said, 
"for what you have done for Troyana and for my coun- 
trymen ?" 

"Balkis," he exclaimed, a note of pain in his voice, 
"Am I 'Worshipful Sir' to you? You didn't use to use 
such formality." 

"But then you were not one whom the wearers of 
the purple had seen fit to honor as one who merited the 
homage and thanks of all," she answered, her face 
averted. "Now it is fitting that I kneel to humbly offer 
you thanks." 

Mariston stepped forward and raised her to her feet. 

"If you're going to act like that, I'm going to be sorry 
that I came back here," he said. "Balkis. I've longed 
so much to see you. Aren't you just a little glad to 
see me ?" 

"Surely I am glad to see my city's rescuer," she an- 
swered with downcast eyes. "Never was any one more 
welcome than you are." 

"Welcome because I brought aid?" he demanded. 

"Why else, my lord?" 

Mariston turned away, a wry expression on his face. 

"I suppose so," he said. "Naturally you were glad 
fo see Amos and his followers thrust back where they 
belong. Well, we're going down after them in a few 
minutes. An hour should suffice to restore the rule of 
the Master without any serious fighting." 

"Fighting?" she exclaimed faintly. "Must there be 
more fighting?" 

"A little, I'm afraid. Amos will fight to the last 
ditch and so will a few of his followers." 

"Must you go ?" she asked. "You have done enough. 
Cannot you stay here and let the others fight the last 
battle?" 

"Not by a long shot!" he declared. "I wouldn't miss 
the final windup for anything. I haven't done any 
fighting at all yet. This may be a first-class scrap. 
Why shouldn't I go?" 

"As my lord wills," she answered. "Who am I that 
my wishes should influence one of your exalted rank?" 

MARISTON turned back toward her, an expression 
of pain on his face. 

"I didn't expect a greeting like this from you, Balkis," 
he said. "I came back here when Nankivell called to me 
to bring aid to him and to my brothers. I would have 
come for that reason, but I had another thing which 
urged me more strongly even than loyalty. Hardly had 
I left Troyana two years ago than I realized that I had 
thrown away any chance of happiness that the world 
might hold for me. I realized how utterly wrong and 
foolish I had been when I told Nankivell that a mar- 
riage between him and Estha would not bring happi- 
ness. My heart was sore at my folly. 

"When I found that he and Estha had outwitted me 
and that she had fled with him, I rejoiced for them, but 
my heart bled the more. In trying to save them, I had 
offered my own heart as a sacrifice and it had been a 
vain one. 

"Had the opportunity been mine I would have re- 
turned, but the way was forever closed to me. Then and 



there I swore that if the way should ever open, I would 
return to Troyana, never to leave again. When I heard 
NankivelPs message, my heart leaped with a throb of 
joy, for I knew that if I lived to win through, I would 
see you again. I dreamed of many ways in which you 
would greet me, but never of a way like this." 

"And why did my lord wish to see his humble hand- 
maiden?" asked the girl. 

"Need I tell you, Balkis? It was because I loved yon, 
because you were more to me than all else in the world. 
Your face has been before me day and night and your 
voice has rung in my ears. I came back here that I 
might say to you those words I foolishly choked back, 
the words, 'I love you.' Balkis, I have won through to 
your side. Now I avow my love for you and ask you to 
be my wife. Will you take me?" 

"Surely, my lord," she replied. "Could any maid of 
Troyana refuse anything which the rescuer of her city 
asked? Did not Jereboam order us to honor you and 
to grant your desires? Surely I will wed with you, 
my lord, and count myself honored." 

A groan burst from Mariston's Hps. 

"It is not for gratitude that I wish you to marry me, 
Balkis," he cried. "Unless you love me, don't offer 
yourself as a sacrifice on the altar of gratitude, for that 
would make neither of us happy. Tell me, do you love 
another ?" 

"How could I think of love for another when my lord 
has honored me by offering to wed with me, a humble 
maid who is nothing, unless my lord thinks that being 
born in the blue is a virtue. Surely, but one love could 
rill my heart, love for him who braved all dangers to 
come to the rescue of my hardly pressed countrymen." 

"Let gratitude be," cried Mariston hoarsely. "Answer 
me plainly. Is there one whom you love?" 

"Yes, my lord," she said faintly. "There is one whom 
I have loved for years, one who I have prayed would 
one day favor me." 

Mariston bowed his head. He raised it again in a 
moment, a rare smile showing through the pain. 

"I might have known," he said softly. "I wish you 
every happiness with the man of your choice, Balkis. 
I am sorry that it had to turn out so, but if you are 
happy, I shall be content. Who is he?" 

"It is one who might have had me long ago for the 
asking, but who steeled his heart against me and left me 
desolate. For that I vowed that I would one day punish 
him. Have I done so?" 

"Why — who — what do you mean?" 

Balkis raised her head and allowed her glorious eyes 
to look full into his. 

"Oh, Bob, you silly boy," she cried, laughter and tears 
in her voice, "don't you know? It's you, dearest, it's 
always been you. Now kiss me quickly before I scream." 

"Balkis !" he cried, hardly believing his ears. 

She held out her arms and he caught her to him in a 
passionate embrace. 

"Break away there, thirty feet is the footage limit on 
that kiss," came Nankivell's cheery voice. 

Mariston released Balkis for an instant. 

"Go soak your head, Frank," he said. 

"Ain't love grand, Estha?" went on Nankivell's cheery 
raillery. "Can you imagine staid old Bob Mariston act- 
ing like a love-sick calf and inviting his best friend to 
soak his head? Such is life. I suppose he won't even 
have time to tell me how Duncan is getting along." 



80 



AMAZING STORIES 



"He's in the same condition I hope to be in soon, mar- 
ried," retorted Mariston. "Now will you please make 
yourself scarce for a week or two? You've been with 
Estha for the past two years, but Balkis and I have to 
make up on lost time." 

"Oh, woodman, spare her limbs !" cried Nankivell in 
mock alarm as Mariston caught Balkis to him again. 
"Estha, isn't that a disgusting sight? Right out in 
public, too. Not a bit of decent reticence. I can 
hardly believe that it is your very proper cousin who is 
making such a spectacle of herself. I really think we 
should call Nahum to come and put a stop to it." 

"Will you please take poison?" replied Mariston. 
"This place is entirely too crowded for comfort. About 
two less would be just right." 

"Such words to his old friend, too. Estha, love has 
a deteriorating effect on some people, hasn't it?" 

"Yes, Frank, it has," came in a smothered tone from 
Balkis. "We're acting almost as silly as you and Estha 
usually do." 

"Bull's-eye!" cried Nankivell. "However, seriously, 
you had better break away for a moment. Afighting we 
must go right soon. Worshipful Sir, and you'd better 
clear the cobwebs and moonshine from your brain. 
You're likely to need all your wisdom, if any. Also, I 
have some bad news for you." 

"TT THAT is it, Frank?" asked Mariston as he settled 

VV his arm around Balkis' waist. 

"You're planning to get married, aren't you?" 

"Sure as shooting." 

"I hope you do, but I wouldn't bet on it. Here's the 
proposition. Balkis is in the same boat that Estha is 
in. She wears the blue and her marriage is a state 
matter and one that must be approved by the Master. 
I have been plaguing Zephaniah for the past two years to 
consent to my wedding to Estha, but that's as far as I 
got." 

"The dickens!" cried Mariston. "What's his objec- 
tion?" 

"He never exactly refused outright," replied Nanki- 
vell, "although if Nahum hadn't been so hot for it, I 
think he would have. However, he didn't give his con- 
sent and put me off, promis-'^g an answer after Amos 
was overthrown and the old order was re-established in 
Troyana." 

"Well, that won't take long." 

"I hope not, but it may take a longer time than you 
expect. To be sure, Amos had no energy left when he 
launched his last attack, but he may have some now." 

"Where would he get it?" 

"You saw those men who were firing at us when you 
came in, the ones you shot down first?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, those weren't Amos' men, nor were they his 
allies at that time. Had we been able to march against 
the lower city at once, the battle would have been short- 
lived, but this hour's delay worries me. Amos is a crafty 
old fox and he saw those men. We didn't kill all of 
them, nor any large part of them. I'm afraid that he'll 
have sought them out and patched up some sort of an 
alliance with them." 

"Who were they?" 

Briefly Nankivell told Mariston of the trip made into 
the caverns below the lower city and what had been 
found there. 



"Isn't the road blocked for them?" demanded Mari- 
ston. 

"The road by which we entered their domain is 
blocked, but unfortunately there are two other paths to 
those caves. One leads out into the jungles, but the 
other leads to the lower city, I left the elevator down 
at the lower level with the door open when I entered 
there two years ago. To be sure, there isn't an elevator 
powered, but I am uneasy." 

"If the power is off, what can they <io?" 

"Nothing, I hope, but I'm not at all sure. Those 
men know a good deal .about science as is shown by 
their weapons. If they find that elevator, they may be 
able to power it from below. If they have done so, we 
may find a warm welcome waiting for us in the lower 
city." 

"Hmmm. That won't be so good." 

"It won't even be funny, but luckily we have three 
rifles and lots of ammunition. I held them back for 
quite a while with one rifle, a pistol and thirty-one cart- 
ridges. With our combined fire, we may be able to do 
something, even if they do meet us." 

"Well, time enough to solve that problem when we 
are face to face with it. There'll be some way out. 
Meanwhile I've got two years of back kisses coming 
from Balkis and I'm going to collect right now." 

He turned toward her, but paused as his eye fell on 
a tall stately figure who had approached unseen. 

"Nahum!" he cried. 

"Bob Mariston!" cried the Junior Warder as he 
grasped the hand of his friend. "Others will thank you 
for the aid you brought so timely. Let me tell you 
simply that I am glad to see my friend again, and to re- 
joice with him and with my niece in their happiness." 

"Oh," stammered Mariston, "excuse me. You're her 
guardian, aren't you? I ask your permission and your 
blessing." 

"Granted, my friend," replied Nahum. "Granted be- 
fore it is asked. My earnest prayers shall accompany 
yours when your petition is offered to the Master's 
throne. But now war calls us from the arms of love. 
The Master bids me tell you that the flashtubes are 
charged and the brethren assembled. As soon as you 
join us, we will march." 

CHAPTER XVII 

The End of the Golden Calf 

AT the door of the assembly hall, Zephaniah and 
Ray Willis came forward to meet them. In the 
■ courtyard where the desperate battle had raged, 
four bodies of men were drawn up. The lines of men 
were, brilliant in their blue and yellow robes, with here 
and there a splash of crimson marking where a brother 
of the cryptic degree had taken his place in the ranks. 
The belts of all were hung heavy with flashtubes. 

"Here are all that are left of the nobles of Troyana," 
said the Master. "One of these four bodies will remain 
here as guards under the command of the Junior Warder. 
The other three bodies will be under the command of 
Jereboam, Hosea, and myself. Brother Nankivell will 
accompany me as my second in command and Brother 
Willis will go with Jereboam in the same capacity. Wor- 
shipful Brother Mariston will go with Hosea and guide 
him with his wisdom. 



TROYANA 



81 



"There are three main entrances to the lower city. 
Each is reached by a shaft in which is a vertical con- 
veyor capable of carrying fifty men. Each body will 
take a separate shaft and will fight its way through the 
lower city, meeting in the great amphitheater. 

"On the way thither, Jereboam's force will take pos- 
session of the Crypt. As soon as its possession is se- 
cure, Jereboam will open the Vault so that a continuous 
flow of energy will be assured. He will start the main 
converters and will remain there with sufficient men to 
guard what he has captured. With him go all of the 
cryptic degree except three. The rest of his party, 
under the command of Brother Willis, will join us in 
the amphitheater which is close at hand. He will enter 
it by the south entrance. 

"The detachment under Hosea will seize the main gen- 
erator unit and start the largest compressors. We will 
drive the Burden Bearers to the lowest levels and air 
will be needed at once. Hosea will organize an emer- 
gency force large enough to keep the generators and 
compressors at work and to guard the place. Worship- 
ful Brother Mariston will take command of the rest and 
make a circle through the city so as to enter the amphi- 
theater from the west. 

"Brother Kankivell and I will sweep through the city, 
driving the Burden Bearers to the lower levels and enter 
the meeting place from the east. The amphitheater is the 
place where the heaviest resistance will be met with, if 
we meet with any at all. All will bear in mind that no 
more Burden Bearers are to be killed than is absolutely 
necessary. We have already so reduced their numbers 
that we will be short of human labor for a generation. 
Drive them below where we can sort them over at our 
leisure and mete out suitable punishment to the lead- 
ers whom we feel should be made an example of." 

"What of Amos, Most Worshipful Sir?" asked Hosea. 

"Capture him if you can, Brother Senior Warder, 
hut above all, harm him not. Better it is that he escape 
for the present and take refuge with his followers than 
that he be harmed. Such a traitor as he is has never 
before been known in the annals of Troyana and such a 
one should be suitably punished. Now does everyone 
understand the plan and his part in it?'* 

There was a murmur of assent from the leaders. 

"Then may the Great Architect aid and bless us, and 
may our arms prevail against the forces of sin and 
iniquity. Brethren, to your posts !" 

Under their leaders, the three bodies swung off to 
take up their appointed tasks. Their paths coincided 
for a few hundred yards. They came to an intersecting 
passage and Zephaniah halted them while he spoke to 
Mariston. 

"Your path turns left here," he said. "When you 
reach the vertical conveyor, fill it with men, set the con- 
trol for maximum speed and wait. So far no elevators 
are powered. My detachment will enter the farthest one. 
As soon as I give the signal, power will be applied to 
all three simultaneously. In that way we will all attack 
at the same time and avoid having one body left to face 
all the forces of Amos. You understand your part of 
the plan?" 

"Thoroughly, Most Worshipful Sir." 

"Then go. The power will be on in about ten min- 
utes." 

At the next cross corridor Jereboam turned off to 
the right with his command, leaving the third contingent 



under Zephantah and Nankivell to push on alone. 

"I am relieved about one thing, Brother Nankivell," 
said the Master. "I feared that Amos had secured an- 
other supply of power and might meet us in the upper 
city outside the sanctuary. The fact that he awaits 
our attack below would indicate that he is really help- 
less." 

"I certainly hope so. We've lost enough men already." 

"Yes, and they are men whom we can ill spare for 
they can be replaced but slowly. The Great Architect 
grant that our losses are at an end." 

In silence the detachment marched on. Horizontal 
conveyors ran through the walls paralleling their line 
of march, but it was no part of Zephaniah's plan to place 
power on any devices outside the walls of the sanctuary 
before he had to. Any power he supplied would be 
equally at the command of Amos. At last the column 
paused before a recess in the wall. Before them was 
an empty vertical conveyor. At a word from the Master, 
Nankivell and fifty of the nobles crowded into the small 
space. Nankivell set the control lever for maximum 
speed downward, at the same time setting the automatic 
stop which would bring the car to rest at the level of 
the amphitheater. 

"All ready," he reported to Zephaniah. 

The Master pressed a button on a box which he 
carried in his hand. A disc on its front glowed green 
and Zephaniah spoke clearly toward it. 

"Power on, please," he said. 

Hardly had the words left his lips than the car shot 
down with sickening speed. Nankivell caught at the 
control lever with a groan. Before he had time to move 
it, the downward acceleration ceased and the car began 
to slow down. It stopped with a sudden jerk. The 
heavy stone block which shut it off from the lower city 
moved aside automatically. Before them lay an empty 
passageway. 

"Come out quickly!" cried Nankivell. 

He set the example by springing out into the empty 
corridor. One man remained in the elevator. As soon 
as it was empty, the stone block slid in front of it. 

"Spread out in a skirmish line !" cried Nankivell. 

The men who had come with him ran down the cor- 
ridor in both directions, dropping prone at five yard 
intervals. In a moment the stone block slid to one side 
and another fifty men joined him. It was only a matter 
of minutes for the third contingent under Zephaniah to 
enter the corridor. As the Master emerged he turned to 
Nankivell. 

"What was that noise?" he demanded. 

"It sounded like a flashtube in the distance," re- 
plied Nankivell. "The other bodies are probably en- 



"Then there is no time to be lost," cried Zephaniah. 
"Form in column and follow me." 

He led the way at a swinging run down the passage. 
For three hundred yards they met with no resistance. 
They swung around a corner. Before them were three 
black-clad figures, evidently sentries. At the sight of 
the gorgeously attired column, they gave cries of alarm 
and fled away. The intermittent crash of flashtubes 
could be heard quite plainly now and several times the 
sharp crack of a rifle punctuated the noise. 

"Here is where we meet resistance, if ever!" cried 
the Master. 

With the column at his heels, he burst into the vast 



AMAZING STORIES 



amphitheater with its seating capacity of thousands. As 
they passed the doorway, a blinding flash of light filled 
the hall and they were hurled to the ground by a ter- 
rific crash, 

FOR a moment they could see nothing. Gradually 
the scene cleared. On the floor before them lay a 
group of Burden Bearers evidently caught by the. crash 
which had greeted them on their entrance. Further back 
stood another larger group, hesitating whether to stand 
their ground or to fly. 

"Charge them!" cried Nankivell. "One good charge 
and they'll break and run !" 

He sprang to his feet and raced across the floor as he 
spoke, the nobles of Troyana trailing after him. The 
hesitating group broke and fled at their approach. With 
cheers, the men following Nankivell raced on. They 
reached the middle of the great hall. Suddenly there 
came a sound which froze the marrow in Nanki veil's 
bones. Above the sound of shouting came a sharp hiss. 
A spark floated through the air from the seats on the 
opposite side of the hall and made its way toward them. 

"Scatter !" he cried. "Scatter out and take cover !" 

Obediently they scattered, but not soon enough. The 
spark burst and thousands of tiny whorls of light floated 
downward, death in the touch of each of them. Before 
they landed, inspiration visited Nankivell. 

"Flashtubes !" he shouted. "Fire a couple of tubes up- 
ward !" 

He set the example by discharging one of his tubes 
into the air. All of the sparks in the vicinity of the dis- 
charge died out in darkness. Others followed his exam- 
ple and the menace was temporarily over. Another hiss 
came from the seats and a half dozen sparks floated up. 

"Flashtubes again!" cried Nankivell. "Hit them be- 
fore they burst!" 

The air was torn by the thunder of discharging tubes. 
Nankivell did not use his. He rapidly unslung his rifle 
and brought it to his shoulder. Again came the 
menacing hiss but mingled with it came the crack of 
Nankivell 's weapon. A figure rose from the distant 
seats and fell forward to the floor. 

Again and again Kanki veil's rifle cracked. The hiss- 
ing kept up steadily but the carefully aimed flashtubes 
of the nobles of Troyana killed the tiny sparks before 
they had time to burst and spread death and destruction 
broadcast. There was a momentary lull in the fighting. 
A dull plop was heard behind them. Nankivell looked 
around and a hoarse cry of alarm came from his lips. On 
the dais behind them where stood the Golden Calf was 
a group of men attired in the dress of the long-sleeping 
nobles of Atlantis. As he looked, one of them hurled a 
small round object to the amphitheater floor. There was 
another dull plop. A cloud of light green gas could be 
seen emerging from the two spheres on the floor. 

Nankivell swung around and leveled his rifle at the 
group on the dais. Before he had time to fire, a fateful 
hiss came from behind him. The crash of flashtubes 
told him that his followers had seen and were combating 
the menace. He leveled his rifle and fired. One of the 
'figures on the dais dropped, but a volley of the deadly 
gas bombs came from above. The cloud was perilously 
close. 

"Charge the seats!" came Zephaniah's ringing voice. 

The nobles of Troyana turned and charged toward 
the section of seats from whence had come the deadlv 



sparks. They were within a hundred yards of it when 
a dozen dull green spheres flew through the air to break 
in front of them. They were caught between two clouds 
of the deadly gas. 

"To the north!" cried Zephaniah. 

They swung to the left and raced toward the north 
side of the hall. From directly behind them came an- 
other hiss and the air was alive with the malignant 
sparks. They did not pause to reply to the fire but fled 
toward the north. They had almost reached the north 
tier of seats when a cloud of black-robed figures rose and 
swept down on them. 

The nobles met the attack with the crash of flashtubes. 
The front of the attack melted away, but for every Bur- 
den Bearer who fell, two rose to take his place. Behind 
them rolled the deadly gas while overhead the terror- 
inspiring sparks writhed {h rough the air as if in intel- 
ligent pursuit of them. 

"Make a stand, men !" cried Nankivell. "It's all we 
can do !" 

He dropped to the floor and cuddled the rifle to his 
cheek. The group on the dais were still plainly visible. 
He lined his sights on them and fired. An Atlantean 
noble fell headlong. He reloaded but did not fire as the 
futility of it struck him. The deadly cloud of gas was 
only a few feet away. 

A sudden shout, faint and far distant, came from the 
south side of the hall. Mingled with it was the crack 
of a rifle. •, 

"Ray Willis!" cried Nankivell, joy vibrant in his" 
voice. 

He threw up his rifle and fired rapidly. From the 
seats where the deadly fire of sparks had rained on them, 
a fresh volley rose from the air, but mingled with the 
hissing came the crash of flashtubes and the crack of 
Willis' rifle. Taken in flank, the entrenched sleepers 
were doomed. 

With a shout, Zephaniah led his men against the wav- 
ering Burden Bearers before him. They fought bravely 
for a moment before they broke and fled in all directions. 
Nanki veil's rifle spoke as rapidly as he could work his 
bolt and fire. The defeat had been suddenly changed 
to victory but for one thing. The deadly cloud of gas 
was creeping steadily wearer. Nankivell began to cough. 

"I'm afraid they've got us !" he cried to Zephaniah. 

Even as he spoke he became aware that the gas was 
growing less dense. It seemed to be retreating from 
them rather than advancing. Above the din of battle 
he could hear a distant hum and a sigh as of rushing 
air. He looked inquiringly at Zephaniah. t 

"We are saved!" cried the Master. "Hosea has 
captured the generator unit. He has seen our peril 
through observers and he has started the largest com- 
pressors. They will change the air in this hall in four 
minutes when driven at top speed. Let us attack the 
dais." 

At his call, his men rallied about him and started an 
advance toward the distant dais on which stood the figure 
of the Golden Calf. From the west side of the hall 
another body of men entered and advanced toward them. 
Nankivell gave a cry of joy. In the lead ran Mariston. 1 

The three bodies met in the center of the great amphi- 
theater. Willis and Mariston grasped NankivelPs hand 
warmly, but there was no time for congratulations. 
From the dais came a stir of movement and a dull violet 
light flashed through the air. 



TROYANA 



83 



At Zephaniah's command the nobles of Troyana scat- 
tered and ran toward the dais. Hardly had the ad- 
vance started than it ceased. Everyone in the room 
stood frozen with horror. Through the air, pulsing like 
a malignant living entity came a sound, a sound of fear 
and terror. Distant and yet near, it filled the hall, ham- 
mering away at the brains of the hearers as though 
drilling holes through the living tissue. 

"The Drums !" came a wailing cry. "The Hooves of 
the Calf ! Woe ! Woe ! Woe P 

"Damn !" shouted Willis. "Amos must have snagged 
some power somewhere. Shoot, men, shoot all you 
know. Good work, Bob, the Maristons always could 
shoot. Where's Nankivell ? Oh, there you are young- 
ster. Keep your eyes open, they'll charge in a minute!" 

He threw up his rifle and fired again and again with 
deadly accuracy. The violet ray was roaming over the 
floor of the amphitheater. Fully half of the nobles of 
Troyana were standing frozen in their tracks, paralyzed 
by the strange ray. Willis leaped to his feet. 

"Come with me, Frank !" he cried. 

With Nankivell at his heels he turned and raced back 
toward the seats. Nankivell realized his strategy and 
gave a whoop of joy. In a few moments they had 
reached the seats and were climbing rapidly upward. 
From the elevation they had gained, they could overlook 
the dais. 

"Now, youngster, don't waste a shot!" cried Willis 
as he dropped prone. "You fire at the men, I'll take 
their damned machine!" 

NANKIVELL fired steadily. The range was not 
great and his weapon took a terrific toll of the 
Atlantean nobles. Willis fired slowly, taking a careful 
and deliberate aim with each shot. The third time he 
fired, the violet light winked out. 

"Hurrah!" cried Nankivell. 

"Don't cheer yet, that may be only a stall," said 
Willis grimly. 

He reloaded and fired again. A blinding flash came 
from the dais and the device from which had come the 
violet beam burst into fragments. 

With shouts of triumph the handful of Troyanans 
who had escaped the deadly paralyzing ray charged at 
the platform. The remnants of the court of Atlantis met 
them, weapons in hand. For a moment the fight was 
an even one, but above the ring of steel on steel came a 
steady crack-crack-crack as Mansion's pistol woke to 
life. 

Willis and Nankivell ran down the tiers of seats and 
scurried across the floor. They raced up the steps to 
the dais to find the fight over. The last of the sleepers 
lay prone on the platform. Barely thirty of the nobles 
of Troyana were still on their feet. 

"This battle has cost us dearly," said Willis as he 
looked around the amphitheater where hundreds of 
blue and yellow robed figures lay sprawled on the floor. 

"Those men are all right," laughed Nankivell. "That 
purple ray paralyzes, but it doesn't kill. A reduced 
charge from a flashtube will bring them around in good 
shape. We've won with little loss." 

He advanced toward Zephaniah. As he reached his 
side, the Master raised his hand and pointed dramatically. 
On the altar at the foot of the huge misshapen Golden 
Calf stood a solitary figure attired in a robe of bril- 
liant crimson heavily embroidered with gold. On his 



breast there flashed the golden jewel of a Master. 

"Amos!" cried Nankivell. 

He raised his rifle but Zephaniah placed a restraining 
hand on his shoulder. 

"Lower your weapon, Brother Nankivell," he said. 
"The archtraitor must be takgn alive." 

He waved back his followers and advanced alone to- 
ward the altar. Amos watched him with a grim expres- 
sion of malevolence on his face. 

"Amos !" cried the Master. "The fate which Gedaliah 
prophesied has overtaken you. Alone and helpless, you 
are left to face the wrath of the Master whose authority 
you flouled and whose place you strove to usurp. You 
have come to the end of your treachery. Lay down 
your arms, if you bear any, for further resistance will 
not avail. The Council will decide your fate." 

Amos drew himself up and answered in a ringing 
voice which filled the entire hall. 

"Zephaniah!" he said. "Upstart who sits in the blue 
throne which is mine by right, victory will avail you 
nothing. Defeated, I will yet bring victory from de- 
feat. Hearken! The Hooves cf the Calf spell ybur 
doom !" 

Ii>the silence the demoniac drumming again filled the 
air until it seemed that the heads of the hearers would 
burst from sheer agony. The sound died down for an 
instant and Amos' voice could be heard again. 

"For you, Zephaniah, the Calf has called. For all 
your vaunted wisdom, there are things of which you 
are ignorant. Advance to the altar, if you dare, and 
invite the Calf to choose between us." 

Fearlessly, Zephaniah strode up to the altar. Face 
to face he stood with Amos. On the breast of each of 
them was a symbol of power and authority. The crim- 
son robes of Amos and the blue robes of Zephaniah each 
bore the same symbols of majesty. 

"At last, usurper, we stand face to face," cried Amos. 
"Let the Calf judge between us and, mayhap, take us 
both to our doom." 

"Look out, Zephaniah !" cried Willis. 

His pistol flew up and spurted flame, but he was too 
late. Amos had stooped and touched a button on the 
base of the image. There was a blinding flash and an 
explosion which shook the hall. The massive figure 
of the Golden Calf rose in the air for an instant and 
then toppled and fell. 

Full on the two men it landed, crushing them together 
in death. The grotesque figure fell apart in fragments. 
Its mission ended, the false god set up by the nobles of 
Troyana for their debased slaves to worship had ceased 
to exist, carrying with it in its destruction both the rene- 
gade who had tried to turn it to its last base use and 
the faithful Master of Troyana who had upheld to the 
death the worship of the Great Architect of the Uni- 
verse. 

CHAPTER XVIII 
The New Master 

I DECLARE this Council duly constituted," an- 
nounced Bob Mariston. "Brother Scribe, declare 
the number of the brethren." 
"Of the purple, two. Of the crimson, seven. Of the 
blue, one hundred and three. Of the yellow, three hun- 
dred, seventy and one. Of the black, two thousand, one 
hundred, thirty and five." 



84 



AMAZING STORIES 



"Brother Warder of the South, your report." 

"Good, Worshipful Sir. Complete order has heen 
restored in the lower city and your sublime rule is estab- 
lished as it was before the traitor Amos raised the 
standard of rebellion against the oriental throne. The 
Vault is open and regular supplies of energy are assured. 
While undermanned, the Crypt functions properly. I 
have received reports from the new Warder of the 
Outer Ways that he has recruited six hundred Cowans 
to serve us. He also reports that twenty of the three and 
thirty eggs of the Guardians of the Jungle have hatched. 
In another year, the full eleven packs wilt again range 
the jungles to guard our domain from invasion. Five 
parties, attracted by gold, have entered our territory. 
None of them will return. But for our paucity of num- 
bers Troyana is as it was before the rebellion. The last 
of the sleepers has been sought out and replaced in his 
cylinder and again sleeps the sleep he chose and from 
which there will be no second waking." 
* "It is well. Brother Warder of the West, your re- 
port." 

Nahum rose in his place. 

"Worshipful Sir," he announced, "the required thirty 
days have passed since our last Master passed to his 
rest and reward in the eternal halls of the Great Archi- 
tect. During that trying period, you have ruled wisely 
and well, but your period of authority is at an end. I 
declare that the first duty of the Council is to choose a 
successor to our lamented brother, Most Worshipfui 
Zephaniah." 

Mariston rose and laid down the scepter winch he held 
in his hand. 

"To you, Warder of the West," he said, "I surrender 
the emblems of imperial authority and the oriental throne 
which I have unworthily filled." 

Nahum walked the length of the hall and seated him- 
self in the throne which Mariston had vacated. Maris- 
ton took a seat by his side. 

"A new Master must be chosen." declared Nahum. 
"What is the will of the brethren?" 

Mariston rose to his feet. 

"Brother Warder," he said, "there is but one man 
here who should be chosen to fill the throne in the east. 
You have served through every office in the Council save 
the highest, and it is fitting and proper that you should 
now serve in that." 

There was a murmur of applause but Nahum silenced 
it with raised hand. 

"Just before this Council was constituted," he said 
with a smile, "I was informed by Brother Jereboam 
that I had been chosen to fill the vacant place in the 
ranks of the Keepers of the Sacred Treasure. No wear- 
er of the purple may be Master, so another must be 
chosen. What is the will of the brethren?" 

Jereboam rose. 

"Brother Warder.'Mie said, "I agree with Worshipful 
Brother Mariston that there is but one man here who 
should logically' be called to the vacant throne. But for 
one brother here, the glory of Troyana would be no 
more. This brother has filled in past years the dignity 
to which he should now ascend. During the past month. 
he has filled the oriental throne both wisely and well. 



For the throne of Most Worshipful Master of this 
Council and ruler of Troyana, our choice should be Wor- 
shipful Brother Mariston." 

A roar of applause swept the room. Mariston was on 
his feet in an instant. 

"What I have done is nothing," he cried. "If anyone 
has saved the city, it is Brother Nankivell. The vacant 
throne — " 

"Nothing doing. Bob!" cried Nankivell. "You know 
that I haven't either the brains or dignity enough for the 
oriental throne. I agree with Brother Jereboam. You 
are the man for it." 

"Brother Warder of the South," cried Nahum, "de- 
clare the will of the brethren." 

"Your words are their will, Brother Warder. It is 
the unanimous desire of the brethren that Worshipful 
Brother Mariston be declared Master of the Council." 

Amid the ringing cheers of the Planners, Nahum 
took Mariston by the hand and seated him in the blue 
throne. 

"Let me be the first to declare my loyalty, Most 
Worshipful Sir," he said. "It is no surprise to me. 
You were the logical choice." 

As the cheering died down, Mariston grasped his 
scepter and rose to his feet. His eyes twinkled as he 
looked around the hall. 

"The throne of the Master carries grave responsi- 
bilities," he said, "but it also carries privileges. Long 
ago I knew what would be my first decree if I occupied 
the oriental throne. Brother Nankivell!" 

Surprised, Frank Nankivell rose to his feet. 

"Most Worshipful Sir," he said. 

"I find on the trestle board a petition of yours ad- 
dressed to the oriental throne," said Mariston. "In it 
you crave my permission to be united in marriage with 
Estha, the granddaughter of our Warder of the West. 
Several times this petition has been considered and post- 
poned. It is now my order that this, your prayer, be 
granted. Let the decree be entered!" 

A volley of cheers rent the air while Nahum stepped 
down and faced Nankivell. 

"My son in fact!" he cried as he gripped NankivelTs 
hand. 

Ray Willis had got that far in his disconnected and 
often incoherent story on the last night the fever had ' 
him. When he awoke in the morning, he was rational 
and remembered nothing of his strange adventures. We 
tried to piece it out later, but he could never remember 
anything of what followed. He left Troyana once by his 
own choice, and it is only natural to judge that he left 
again of his own free will and accord. Mariston would 
hardly refuse him permission. He had no magnet to 
hold him in the city as had Mariston and Nankivell. I 
presume that the decree entered by Zephaniah on Nankt- 
vell's return to the city was enforced and that was what 
was the matter with his memory. Of that, you who have 
read the story can judge as well as I can. I carried out 
my part of the bargain and left Ray Willis in Belem 
with his diamonds intact. 

That was four years ago. And I have never heard 
from him since. 



The End 



85 

COSMIC STEEPLE-CHASE 

(Continued from page 69) 

chemical which started the disintegration of the explosive lant would strike. I was afraid you would note the 

within the body — literally broke the enemy to atoms, substitution the last time we inspected the passengers, 

scattering the whole into the Universe as dust. Bellant but I had to find out if Bellant would know the differ- 

is no more! Alice lives. Harry! Come!" ence between the real and the image as they lay sleep- 

"Is this true?" shouted Jameson as he sped after ing. The servant served its master well." 

Elam. "The drug — I wish to awaken Alice." 

They turned into Elam's laboratory and, proceeding Great was the joy of these two as the girl came to life 

to one side, Elam opened a horizontal secret panel. once more — almost from the dead, it seemed to Harry. 

With a shout of joy, Jameson reached for his sweet- Elam left them, and the rest of the journey the ship 

heart — sleeping there peacefully, and oh, so beautiful was his to manage, for the two were busy together, 

to look upon. "We have a request to make of you, Elam," said Alice 

"But the reviving drug!" Jameson cried. "Bellant on the day of their arrival on Earth. 

has it all !" "Granted for the asking," Elam replied. 

"Not at all. He never had any of it. I have known "Harry and I are to be married when we reach the 
for two years of this plot. I wished you to be the means Earth. Will you be our best man?" 
of destroying Bellant — he is not a type which should sur- "I will be more than delighted," replied Elam, and 
viye. I knew that if you knew Alice to be alive here, you with a sly smile he added, "and for a wedding present 
might weaken and tell Bellant the truth. He would I have grown in my laboratory two servants for you- 
then never have plunged the needle into the image of a wee Alice and a wee Harry — for use until you have a 
Alice — and have destroyed himself. I changed the image wee Alice or wee Harry of your very own!" 
for the real Alice long ago for I didn't know when Bel- And they were, and sometime later, they did ! 

The End 



An Anniversary 



<I The April, 1932, issue of Amazing Stories marks the beginning of the 
seventh year since this unique magazine saw the light of day. It was a 
striking departure from the hackneyed plots, detective stories, True Stories, 
et al. Here was something different! After six years — despite the changes 
and the depression and what not — it remains definitely "something new," 
although it has become a familiar publication to more than three or four 
hundred thousand boys and girls and men and women of varied ages. It 
is still different — even from the amazing attempts at imitations which have 
recently bobbed up. 

<I And with it all, Amazing Stories remains, as its vast number of friends 
terms it: The Aristocrat of Scientific Fiction. It has retained three impor- 
tant factors : Amazing Stories is instructive, inspirational and entertaining. 
The editors believe that actions speak louder than words, and they are 
sustained in their belief by the phenomenal success of the magazine. We 
do not assure and reassure our many faithful friends that our policy remains 
the same. Judging from the number and the kind of letters we receive, 
we feel we do not need to remind you that this is your magazine and that 
we can only do best by giving you what you want. 

§ Our mounting circulation figures and our increased advertising justify 
us in our natural assumption that we are pleasing you to an ever-increasing 
degree. 

9 However, we have not become complacent and self-satisfied. We con- 
tinue to be humble. We know there is still much to do and we realize 
that we can continue to improve and grow only with your help. 

— The Editors. 



86 



AMAZING STORIES 



April, 1932 



In the Realm of Books 



Highbrow Science Fiction 

"Brave Nezv World" by Aldous Huxley. 

Published by Doubleday, Doran & C"., 

Inc., Garden City, L, I., Nciv York, 

311 pages. $2,50. 

IT seems that Mr. Huxley either dis- 
likes science, particularly its possible 
future development, or that he does 
not believe in science. At any rate, the 
book gives a lot of decidedly undeserved 
credit to one Ford, whose highly stan- 
dardized sweatshops apparently led Hux- 
ley to the belief that Ford is the origi- 
nator of standardization. Huxley even 
goes so far as to call the era in which 
the book takes place; "A. F.," probably 
meaning "Anno Fordis," and to give a 
high dignitary of his Utopia the title 
"Fordship" and also use the words "By 
Ford" or "Oh, Ford," if his characters 
indulge in mild swearing. In other 
words, Ford apparently is elevated to 
the position of demi-god, and his book 
"My Life and Work" replaces the Bible. 



The book starts with a description of 
the "Central London Hatchery and Con- 
ditioning Centre" where, over the en- 
trance, the New World's Motto "Com- 
munity, Identity, Stability" is promi- 
nently displayed. Here the new world's 
children are produced, strictly artificially. 

By Hypnopaedic machines the children 
are taught platitudes, to make them 
happy in whatever station in life thev 
are destined to fill. All children are 
also conditioned to look upon death as 
something natural and they are taken 
regularly to morgues and also to hospi- 
tals of the dying and are rewarded by 
chocolate eclairs after having witnessed 
the death of a few New World citizens. 

Now there appears a character, one 
Marx, an Alpha plus, but lie has queer 
impulses, not at all standardized, be- 
cause someone made a mistake when he 
was being conditioned by adding too 
much alcohol to his blood surrogate. He 
is attracted toward Lenina, and he, being 
an Alpha plus, obtains one of the few 



permits to visit a reservation of savages 
in New Mexico, where life is carried on 
as it was before the era of Ford. 

Here they find Linda, who has a natu- 
ral born son. 

The son, John, knows uothing»of civil- 
ization and as permission is granted to 
bring Linda and her son to London, a 
sensation is created. 

Lenina develops a passion for John, 
but he repulses her, even when she 
seductively approaches him, In despair 
John finds refuge in an abandoned light- 
house where he finally hangs himself to 
escape Huxley's Brave New World. 

From the point of view of the scien- 
tific fiction fan, this book is a decided 
flop. Its contents, which at times almost 
become obscene, but are at all times 
supercharged with sex, will undoubtedlv 
bar it from circulation in Boston, but the 
book may serve to call the attention of a 
great many readers to the fact that there 
is a class of fiction in existence which 
deals with scientific subjects. — C, A. B. 



What Do You Know? 



R E 



lEADERS of Amazixg Stories have frequently commented upon the fact that there is more actual knowlcd-i- 
\- to be gained through reading its pages than from many a text-book. Moreover, most of the stories are written 
in a popular vein, making it possible for anyone to grasp important facts. 

_ The questions which we give below are all answered on the pages as listed at the end of the questions. Please 
see if you can answer the questions without looking for the answer, and see how well vou check up on vour gen- 
eral knowledge of science. 



1. What rays are present in sunlight which are not 
found in the light of ordinary incandescent lamps ? 
(See page 27.) 

2. What metal is a characteristic portion of an ultra- 
violet electric lamp? (See pages 27 and 28.) 

3. What causes sunburn of the human skin? (See ' 
page 27.) 

4. How is sunstroke (heat exhaustion) sometimes 
diagnosed? (See page 28.) 

■5. What is to be said about the formula of formalde- 
hyde? (See page 28.) 

6. What Is a theory of plant action on the atmospheric 
carbon dioxide? (See page 28.) 



7. Can ultra-violet light pass through a glass window 5 
(See pages 30 and 34.) 

8. What must the bulb of an ultra-violet rav lamp be 
made of? (See page 35,) 

9. What is the name of the fourth planet, referring to 
its orbit? (See page 44.) 

10. What is the name of the third planet? (See page 44.) 

11. Describe the Lorenz-Fitzgerald theory. (See page 

12. How could the growth of the human bodv be 
affected? (See page 67.) 

13. What parts of the animal system are related to 
growth? (See page 67.) 




-%^«i# 



.JQd.&C U gg lQNS 



^?8sates^«i^^Bss 



m^t^&twswm 




WWirnqs^Mmiin 



In this department we shall discuss, every month, topics of interest to readers. The editors invite correspondence Oft all 

subjects directly or indirectly related to the stories appearing in this magazine. In case a special personal answer is required 

a nominal fee of 25c to cover time and postage is required. 



AN. AMERICAN CORRESPONDENT 
WANTED 
llilitor. Amazing Stories: 

After reading Merit's "Submicroscopic," it 
seemed to me that Meek had overlooked certain 
details. They say that pins or minus infinity 
cannot be reached, yet the machine stopped 
sin' in king. Also, Ity the way Meek describes 
the sinking it would seem that Ulni was only 
several inches under the surface of the earth. 
If this were so, it would have been squashed 
flat by being walked on, 

A couple of friends 'round our way have 



decided that serials should be abolished, and 



complete stories put 
part of tbe serial. 

I wonder if any Americ 
corresjiond with me r I 
school, and have a job as c 



instead of 



idi 



3 lad would like to 

m 15, just leaving 

penter. 

L. Bills. 

2 Archbold Rd„ Rosevitlc. 

Sydney, N. S. W., Australia. 

(We will leave your letter to Captain Meek 
to answer. He has already done so with another 
letter. Captain Meek is a highly educated man. 



an officer in the United States Army and one 
of our most esteemed writers, but remember 
that you must give considerable latitude to what 
are specified as "amazing" stories. Otherwise 
they must necessarily deteriorate. We ara 
quite sure that you will have little trouble to 
find some American who would like to corre- 
spond with you. You are not far from 8,000 
miles away from us on a straight line, but a 
lot more measured on the great circle of the 
earth's surface. That ought to tempt corre- 
spondents. — Editor.) 

(Cunt in lied on pane 88) 



April, 1932 



AMAZING STORIES 



87 



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AMAZING STORIES 



DR. SMITH ACCEPTS MISS ROBBS' 
CHALLENGE 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

"Gadzooksl" quoth the assemblage of spright- 
ly and courteous gentlemen — and no small 
sprinkling of fair and beauteous damsels — 
assembled to witness the March joustings, 
"Dame Robb doth wield a trenchant pen!" 

For they had seen that embattled maid cross 
lances with Sir Smith, that gray and war-torn 
old veteran, and had seen him unhorsed. Hel- 
met here, buckler there, greaves and fragments 
of armor scattered hither and yon, the dottghty 
knight lay prostrate upon the sand, while hi? 
charger galloped madly away. But, though 
dazed and demoralized by the force of his over- 
throw, no bones are found to be broken and 
old "Doc" gathers up his scattered impedimenta 
and turns painfully to continue the battle afoot. 
All of which is a somewhat vcrbiose preamble to 
the statement that .Richard Seaton is still will- 
ing and able to defend his customary mode of 
speech. 

Miss Robb is clever. She writes forcibly and 
well, and I am gratified indeed that such a one 
pays me the compliment of enjoying my efforts. 
I must admit that by her judicious selection and 
concentration of words and expressions from my 
stories she has composed a sour symphony in- 
deed. But when it is considered that she has 
culled those expressions from some two hundred 
fifty thousand words, it becomes clear that her 
picture is not quite in true perspective. In the 
same line of thought, I may be allowed to point 
out that while a dilute solution of vanilla is 
pleasant to the senses, yet the concentrated 20X 
extract is so violently nauseous as to be almost 
unrecognizable. 

Before I proceed to a general defense, I will 
answer Miss Robb's one direct question. Yes, 
Miss Robb, I can explain that point. I will point 
out first, however, that you are wrong in your 
statement that not a single one of the foreigners 
spoke English as Seaton spoke it. Dunark 
spoke precisely aa Seaton did, because their 
brains had been imprinted one upon the other. 
The others did not speak as be did because he 
taught them pure English instead of the sort 
of language he himself used in his every-day 
life — he taught them the form of speech he and 
other educated men used in public. 

Now to the defense. Concerning repetition, 
that is deliberate. If Miss Robb will do a bit 
of observing, she will notice that certain ex- 
pressions are characteristic of certain men, and 
that in every-day life those expressions are re- 
peated over and over again. In Seaton's con- 
versation I drew faithfully a living scientist, a 
Ph.D., in chemistry, word for word. I de- 
liberately so wrote Seaton's character and per- 
sonality into those stories; partly to lend veri- 
similitude to a highly improbable tale, but 
mostly in protest against the stereotyped, stilted, 
and utterly unnatural conversation forced upon 
the unfortunate scientists portrayed in all too 
many stories. For I have known personally, 
have worked with and have played with some 
hundreds of highly trained specialists in sci- 
ence, whose degrees use up the alphabet, and 
most of them, in their everyday conversations 
with friends and fellow- workers, talk like 
human beings. Most of them really arc human 
beings. In fact, one eminent man — whose name 
most of you would recognize if I were at liberty 
to give it — swears like a pirate upon the golf 
links and in his conversation habitually mixes 
in the same sentence words which drive college 
graduates to the dictionary and the latest cur- 
rent slang, I might also add that the man from 
whom Crane was drawn is one of the few 
scientists of my acquaintance, who never lapses 
into colloquial language when talking in small, 
friendly groups. Scientists as a class call, and 
in public generally do, choose their words with 
care; but in their laboratories they do not, and 
the purported intimate conversations of the 
scientists in many stories not only bores most 
of us to extinction, but also destroys in great 
part the illusion of reality which the authors 
are trying to create. 

So far, I have been upon firm ground. I 
have known what I was talking about, having 
made a large enough number of observations so 
that the probable error in my result is small. 
However, when I attempt to defend my use of 
the term "cuddle-pup," to which Miss Robb 
objects so vigorously, I cannot fall hack upon 
the law of averages, since my romantic experi- 
ence has been limited, but must cite the results 
of only one series of experiments. This, of 
course, is indefensible from a scientific stand- 
point, and is justifiable ouly by the fact that 
since the census enumerator undoubtedly 
counted Miss Robb as only one individual, her 
ideas should not he allowed any more weight 



April, 1932 



my 



those of the subjw 
vife. 



of i 



experiments— 



I have been married to that subject for prob- 
ably as long a time as Miss Robb has lived. In 
spite of that, we are still in love with, each 
other — so much so that we play together as a 
twosome, by choice. And lest Miss Robb con- 
clude that the subject must be in some sense 
abnormal, I will adduce the following data, all 
of winch may be proved: 

In golf, she shoots around 90 consistently 
(she has been women's champion of our city 
for six or seven years), is an excellent swim- 
mer, and quite an athlete generally. She is 
a splendid dancer, and has never known what 
it is like to be a wall-flower. She is also able 
to hold her own in club debates and discussion* 
which call for serious reading and original 
thinking. While she is too old-fashioned to 
smoke cigarettes or to drink alcoholic liquor, 
she has so handled things that we and our 
children enjoy a real home life. 

Now I have called this subject "cuddle-pup"' 
(and many other things not mentioned in my 
stories) for years, with no unpleasant results. 
Therefore, I felt no hesitation in having ray 
hero use such terms. It may be, however, that 
that particular expression carries a connotation 
of vulgarity to the younger generation which it 
does not carry to me, and which it most em- 
phatically was not intended to carry to anyone. 
If so, and if there is expressed in these columns 
any general sentiment against such pet names. 
I shall certainly refrain from using them in my 
stories henceforth. 

Edward E. Smith, Ph.D. 



THE ATOM: RADIUM ON WATCH 
DIALS 
Editor, Amazing Stories: 

Almost every letter in "Discussions" contains 
some slam for cither the magazine, the authors, 
the quality of the paper or the stories. What 
do they want for a quarter? A magazine as 
large as Webster's dictionary? As for the 
stories in the magazine. What do they read 
them for, if they don't like them? You say, 
Mr. Editor, that you want criticisms as well as 
compliments. How come?' You can't suit every- 
body. Somebody wants stories by this author, 
paintings by this artist and reprints. Somebody 
disagrees entirely with him, and pretty soon you 
have a war all printed in Discussions. I can't 
figure it out. Can you ? But that's that. 
Let's get technical. 

I understand that every element is composed 
of atoms, molecules, electrons and minute par- 
ticles of all. I also understand the electrons 
and the protons are positive. Now suppose the 
polarity of the electrons could be changed from 
positive to negative; would not the element which 
they formed be disintegrated? I learned that 
like charges of electricity repel and that unlike 
charges attract. Would this apply to the pro- 
tons and electrons? Again supposing that the 
electrons could be changed to protons, and the 
protons to electrons, would not the clement 
which they formed become different one? 

Now for just one more question. 

A fellow was arguing with me that the dials 
of watches are painted with radium. I said 
it was phosphorus or a like substance treated 
with radium, but that there was no radium used 
in the substance, as radium is almost priceless. 
Who is right? 

Clifford Myers, 
35 Moy Street, 
Providence, R, I. 

(We arc glad indeed to print your very in- 
teresting letter. You have hit the nail on the 
head, as the proverb has it, in what you say 
about the impossibility of pleasing everybody. 
Still, criticism is helpful and we aim to please. 
You are a little confused in what you understand 
about the composition of the elements. As ele- 
ments exist, they are molecules. In most cases 
each molecule contains several atoms. The atom 
is supposed tt> contain a nucleus made tip of 
positive particles, as we may express it, of elec- 
tricity which are called protons. Around these, 
in a sort of reproduction of the planetary sys- 
tems of the world, negative particles of electri- 
city, called electrons, circulate. In most of the 
elements there are what are called bound 
electrons in the proton. Thus each atom is a 
little planetary system. How long this view 
of the atom is going to bold is a matter of pure 
conjecture. There is undoubtedly a minute quan- 
tity of radium in the watch dials to which you 
refer. The only way in which radium is kept 
available for mankind is that it is used in 
extreme dilution and is actually so powerful 
that this dilution does not reduce its action tu 
a useless basis. 1 



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AMAZING STORIES 



Editor, Amazing Stories: 

Shall I burden you with inadequate superla- 
tives in praise of the January issue of A, S, ? 
None would suffice, 

I have on file the complete set of A. S. and 
every other science fiction magazine ever pub- 
lished, and with no attempt at false exaggera- 
tion let me say the January issue of A. S. sur- 
passes any other issue of science fiction in 
any magazine ever publishedl 

The cover: The blending of color harmonies 
and the exactness of detail in this remarkable 
drawing raises Morey into a class with Paul, if 
not higher. The colors are not glaring, yet the 
cover impresses one with its force and power. 

Power, that's itl The picture describes the 
story "Power," the story "Power" is equal in 
merit to the painting of "Power." The two 
coincide in the nth degree of perfectness. 

The editorial is worthy of Dr. Sloane. 

"Tumithak of the Corridors" is one of the 
finest stories ever printed in the pages of A. S. 
The Story is concisely written and has none of 
the marvelous escapes by inexperienced young 
men against hundreds o( thousands of enemies, 
thus saving their country in the nick of time. 
This fault is all too prevalent. It does my heart 
good to sec none of it in this issue of A. S. 

If the following "Lcmurian Documents" are 
as well written and as interesting as "Pyg- 
malion," I have no protest coming. 

As yet I haven't read the "Inevitable Con- 
flict" — I expect it to be as excellently written 
as the other stories in this issue. 

If I were giving the mag. a percentage as 
to quality, I'd say it is 97 per cent perfect. A 
few reprints once in a while or a Reprint 
Annual would supply the other 3 per cent. 

I cannot say who is my best author, as it is 
too difficult to choose among the many excellent 
ones on your staff, 

I'd like to see a story from the pen of A. Hyatt 
Verrill, and Merritt. You've certainly neg- 
lected them. 

If any readers need back copies from 1937 
and up, J'll be glad to supply prices and full 
information on request. I welcome letters on 
STF. anyway. 

By the way, I notice the "A" in AMAZING 
on the cover has a star in it. It deserves to 
be there. The magazine is an all-star issue 
from cover to cover! 

Arthur Berkowitz, 

768 Beck Street, 
New York City, N. Y. 

(Thus far the January issue seems to have 
scored a unanimous hit. We haven't had any 
disapproval yet, but we're still hopeful. It seems 
too good to be true. But wait and see what is 
coming ! — Editor.) 



April, 1932 



THE TEMPERATURE OP INTERSTEL- 
LAR SPACE. THE ABSOLUTE 
ZERO 
Editor, Amazing Stories: 

I write this letter to tell you the impressions 
I get from Amazing Stories, 

As a general thing, I enjoy the stories, but 
1 think the scientific errors in them are very 
misleading. They give a false impression of 
science and of the universe. Personally I enjoy 
trying to find how many errors there are in 
the stories. It is interesting to see whether or 
not I can detect them. 

However, I do not condone the false impres- 
sion they give. As an example of one of the 
errors commonly made in the interplanetary 
stories, T will point out that most authors speak 
of absolute zero as though all interstellar space 
were at that temperature. This is a false 
assumption, for absolute zero does not exist 
anywhere in the universe. It is a scientific 
term for an imaginary and unattainable scien- 
tific conception which can be approached in- 
finitely closely, but can never be reached. 
Mary V. Tuckerman, 

Garfield Memorial Hospital, 
Washington, D. C. 

{Remember that what you may consider 
errors in a story may be simply a stretching 
of facts, as there is danger that by rigid ad- 
herence to the facts of today, disagreeable ele- 
ment of dryness might be introduced into our 
pages. Our authors should be permitted, we 
think to stretch things a little. The absolute 
zero is an abstract subject about which our 
present knoweldge is limited. Tell us of any 
more statements which you regard as scientific 
errors, distinguishing between them and the 
needs of a fiction-writing author. — Editor.) 



AN INTERESTING LETTER FROM ONE 
OF OUR AUTHORS. THE INTERNA- 
TIONAL SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION. 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

An interesting consideration has recently oc- 
curred to me, which may prove of interest to 
a certain class of readers, and may offer 
material for a story by one of the writers better 
trained in uifriier physics than I — Dr. Smith, 
Dr. Breuer, or John W. Campbell, Jr. 

We start from page 69 of Eddington's "The 
Nature of the Physical World." Discussing 
"Time's Arrow," the thing that makes us sense 
past and future, he says: "If . . . we find 
more and more of the random element in the 
state of the world, then the arrow is pointing 
toward the future.; if the random element de- 
creases the arrow points to the past." Again, 
page 74, he says "the practical measure of the 
random element which can increase in the uni- 
verse, but can never decrease is called entropy." 
On page 78, he says that when the final equili- 
brium is reached, when "shuffling" is complete, 
"we lose time's arrow." There is no past or 
future. 'Time exists, but does not pass. The 
universe is static, in the famous warmctod. 

Let us summarize this. Entropy was intro- 
duced to science as a useful, if rather mysterious 
function in thermodynamics. Like most such 
functions, its use has since then enormously 
increased. Let it suffice to confirm its sig- 
nificance in the present problem. It is this: if 
entropy (randomness or "shuffling") increases, 
we are moving toward the future. If it de- 
creases, we are going into the past of the sys- 
tem in question. And in the far future the 
will have reached its maximum in 
disorganization, and Time will cease to 
flow. The universe will be static — run down — 

Now, as has often been done before, consider 
Time as a stream. In some places the speed of 
the current is greater or smaller than in others, 
and in the end it flows into a stagnant, Time- 
Good enough. Here we are, in our part of 
space, drifting along at a definite speed. Some- 
where else the flow is swifter, relative to our 
speed, and Time passes into the future more 
rapidly, entropy increases faster. Elsewhere 
the reverse is true, and relative to us Time 
lags. If we were to pass into the first, swifter 
system, and then return to our own, we might 
live a lifetime there for a day or an hour or a 
second of our Time. Returning from a part of 
Space, where Time flows more slowly than in 
ours, the reverse would be true. A day of life 
there might be centuries here. We would land 
far in the future. 

At first sight, this might seem, a means of 
Time-traveling, but it is not. Time lost is not 
regained. We can live a life-span in the faster 
world and return to Earth decrepit, feeble 
oldsters, while our little nephew has been aging 
from five to six, months, or years, or even 
days. After a few hours of pell-mell adventure 
in the slow world, we return to find our Earthly 
lives lost for good, and Earth celebrating the 
holidays of five thousand or ten thousand years 

Do such places in Space exist ? Have we 
evidence to show that such things are possible ? 
Eddington supplies one example himself. Where 
there is perfect equilibrium, where shuffling, 
entropy, has reached a maximum, as in the 
interiors of some stars, Time will stand still. 
But what of the others? 

Remember, this speed of Time-flow is relative 
to whatever reference we choose — Earth's rate, 
in our case. Looking into a part of the Time- 
stream where the flow is slower, we drift past 
a floating observer of that world, into his future, 
where disruption has increased, and, to us, pro- 
cesses that have a definite rate in our world 
are happening faster there, are disorganizing 
faster. For example, evolution progresses faster, 
atoms disintegrate faster, men die sooner. The 
stars are holocausts of disintegration and dis- 
organization, and if their Time flows slower 
than ours they should approach some state where 
there is no flow at all, an equilibrium. We 
know such "closed" stars, and Eddington shows 
us that there Time stands still. 

The opposite case, of faster flow, remains. 
The observer in that world is passing our 
instant, and his past is coming toward us. We 
seem to move into his past. The processes of 
his world seem reversed to us. Life devolves, 
men grow young, and atoms are born. One of 
the newest facts of physics is Millikan's dis- 
covery that the cosmic rays indicate the building 
up of atoms somewhere in the universe! For 



April, 1932 



AMAZING STORIES 



91 



the purposes of scienti fiction, at least, I think 
the likelihood of our proposition is established. 
It remains for Dr. Breuer, or Dr. Smith, or 
Mr. Campbell to develop the idea in a story. 

There is another consequence of this idea of 
shuffling as measuring the passage of Time, if 
we preserve the strict analogy with a pack of 
cards that Eddington uses less strictly. Such 
a pack will approach a condition of complete 
disorganization, but once there, if the shuffling 
continues, there is no choice, but to become 
more organized, to travel back in Time. That 
can certainly be worked up into a useful mech- 
anism. Also, it Is possible by repeated shuffling 
to obtain a completed sorted pack again. Such 
an occurrence has a definite, calculable prob- 
ability, small, but not zero. Suppose that 
should happen to the universe. It would return 
to its initial state at "creation," and there 
would be a nearly infinite number of possible 
futures open to it. If the something that pro- 
duces shuffling in the universe keeps on, the 
warmctod need not be a real death, and, even 
before reaching that static state, the universe 
may be reborn and pursue any one of au enor- 
nious number of futures. 

I have one word to add, with regard to the 
International Scientific Association. Unavoid- 
able troubles necessitated reorganization and 
consequent upheaval during the past year. This 
is still going on, but order is being brought out 
of chaos. However, the office of Secretary has 
changed hands several times at very short 
notice, andj as a result of the sum total of these 
disturbing elements, a large number of applica- 
tions from the United States, Canada, and Eu- 
rope have gone unanswered. As Foreign Di- 
rector and Acting Secretary, I now want to 
apologize to all who have not been answered, 
to beg thein to have patience and to write again 
if they are still interested, and to assure them 
that in any case their letters will receive per- 
sona! replies before very many weeks have 
passed, as soon as the reorganization is complete 
and the work of the various offices can be re- 
distributed. I say this particularly to our 
English applicants, who may have felt that we 
were a bit too cautious about having members 
in another country, the friendly rival of our 
own. I can only say that our name expresses 
our purpose, and it is onr earnest desire that 
our first European Brauch be established by 
Englishmen, in England. 

There is little sense in criticising authors and 
artists. Morey's February cover is one of his 
best, and the first illustration for "The Rack- 
eteer Ray" is an interesting departure from his 
usual style. In the Quarterly, Taine was 
superb, as ever. Am/zing Stories, if somewhat 
slow and reserved, remains the aristocrat of sci- 
extinction, where science is more than a thread 
on which to hang an author's puppets. 

P. Schuyler Miller, 
302 So. Ten Broeck St., 
Scotia, New York. 

(We are sure our readers will enjoy reading 
a letter from one of our highly esteemed au- 
thors. It tells its story so well and at such 
length that it requires no comment from us. — 



the inelasticity common to old age. If the 
formation of these deposits is not checked, ad- 
jacent parts of the anatomy will inevitably 
follow, resulting in the deterioration commonly 
known as old age. 

Now, the science of gerocomy teaches that 
arteriosclerosis — the clogging up of the arteries 
by chalky deposits — invariably precedes senility. 
That the elimination of these sedimentary de- 
posits rejuvenate the body by regaining elas- 
ticity, Mr. Williamson evidently is not aware. 
Sedimentary deposits occurring in the system 
are analagons to calcareous incrustations which 
appear in boiler-tubes, with the difference that 
the latter are subject to cleansing. If a re- 
juvenating elixir is actually conceivable through 
some chemical ambrosia, then the chemical 
amalgamation of the ingredients of the alkahest 
enter into the realm of the imaginable. 

So far as biological interpretation extends, 
corporeal senescence constitutes a major involu- 
tion, in direct opposition of the evolution of the 
life-cycle, which transpires normally in the 
latter half of the third decade. By no means 
whatsoever is it possible to annihilate the pro- 
gressively deteriorating stages of senility; the 
shrinkage of flesh; glandular defects, and venous 
ossification. By this, I do not mean to imply 
that prolonging life to at least 200 years is an 
absurdity; not, however, by any methods cate- 
gorically similar to the suggestions of Wil- 
liamson I 

For the past three months I have been en- 
gaged in obtaining a protoplasmic formula for 
synthetic haemoglobin, contrasting the previ- 
ously highly significant investigations of P. 
Schuyler Miller and Dr. Walter Elkington to 
the effect that vertebrate evolution recapitulates 
identical changes to be found in the blood. If 
successful, this unprecedented formula may in- 
crease the longevity of the human race to an 
astounding extent. 

O Zeus! In writing this extensive anatreptic 
communication I have acquired the anathema 
of all writers — anapeiratic paralysis of the 
digits! A warning, I should think, to make 
the convolutions of the cerebellum squirm in an 
effort to accelerate the solution to my formula, 
so that P. Schuyler Miller may live five cen- 
turies continually producing stories like "The 
Arrhenius Horror." 

Bernard J, Kenton, 

416 Frankfort Ave., 

Cleveland, Ohio, 



(W 



: glad to foil 



A TRIBUTE TO P. SCHUYLER MILLER. 
THE CAUSES OF SENILITY. 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

After reading Jack Williamson's recent "opus 
magnum" entitled "The Stone from the Green 
Star," for the eighth time, I sat down, shut 
my eyes in meditation, and spent an hour con- 
templating his fallacious supposition of rejuven- 
ation. It appears, from Williamson's story, 
that old age presupposes some idiosyncrasy or 
contamination of the glands, which may be 
abolished through the imbibing of some in- 
vigorating liquor, say for instance, buttermilk. 
On what hypothesis he bases this astounding 
conclusion, I have been at a loss to discover; 
inasmuch as the accepted concensus of opinion, 
originating from actual experiences, deviated -in 
a bee-line to opposing facts. 

"Old age is a glandular disease. Old age can 
be alleviated by neutralizing the poisons in 
glands. Old age is not compatible with the 
growing magnitude of the brain. Old age is 
unnecessary, especially hi modern civilization," 

Shades of Cagliostro. but that is truth! How- 
ever, merely because all iron is metal, all metal 
is not iron; nor is alt that glitters gold: nor 
are Williamson's panacea for old age verified 
by facts. 

Primarily, the intrinsic cause of old age is 
due to sedimentary deposits in both the arterial 



this 



infftH 



We are glad to follow Mr. Miller's com- 
ucation by this very appreciative letter from 
of his admirers. — Editor.) 



Editor, Amazing Stories: 

About ten days ago I discovered a letter from 
you dated May 26, 1931, the letter reads: 

"A correspondent speaks of a blunder in 
your story "The Laughing Death" where you 
indicate the Spaniard as not being of the white 
race . . . etc." 

Frankly I do not remember any Spanish 
character in that particular story. My intelli- 
gence would certainly not permit such an error 
knowingly. 

For many weeks I have been absent on a 
transcontinental camping tour 11,000 miles long, 
touching about all the important scenic points 
in the U. S, A. and a number in Canada and 
Mexico. That explains your neglected letter. 
I took the trip for pleasure and bad as guests 
the entire way, five hoys whose work at school, 
where I teach, had brought them to my atten- 
tion. Our car was fast and powerful (S-cylinder 
Packard) which added to our comfort and en- 
joyment and enabled us to cover a larse terri- 
tory. 

While encamped one night north, of Malibu 
Beach and somewhere near Osnard, California. 
I strolled along the highway after the sound 
of the booming waves had put the boys to sleep, 
I came upon a couple before a small umbrella 
tent brilliantly lighted by a gasoline lantern. 
The couple were bound for Reno. Nevada where 
things were on "the up and up" and where lie 
expected to get started in electrical work. He 
was lying on his stomach on the sand reading 
an Amazing Stories — April issue — just finished 
the "Laughing Death." We got to talking 
about the story and how it left the fate of the 
characters in uncertainty. In the moonlight 
there, with bits of seaweed about our feet, I 
told him how a writer might clarify the situ- 
ation and when I was through the impromptu 



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AMAZING STORIES 



"Heck, you left them in a worse pickle than 
before!" We separated without knowing each 
other's names. "Worlds Adrift," the sequel, is 
the result, 

Stephen Hale, 

6428 N. Fairbill Street, 

Philadelphia, Pa. 

(Perhaps those of our Spanish readers who 
were hurt by the mis-statement which should 
never have passed the proofreader, will he more 
kindly disposed to you again and will look 
forward to your sequel to "The Laughing 
Death," which wc hope to publish beginning ia 
the May issue, — Editor.) 



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AN ENGLISH CRITICISM OF COLLO- 
QUIAL, "AMERICANESE" 
Editor, Amazing Stories: 

Although the prospects of publication of this 
critical letter are, I suppose, somewhat nebu- 
lous, as a reader of Amazing Stories since its 
inception, I feel it my duty to register a protest 
against the ever-growing avalanche of slang in 
your stories. 

I will not presume to draw your attention 
to the requirements of good English, or of 
literature in this connection, as others have 
already done so in the past. I simply state as 
a fact that ever since Dr. E. E. Smith, in his 
"Skylark" stories, utilized slang conversation 
requiring one of bis own "mechanical educa- 
tors" to understand, his example has been aped 
by an ever growing number of contributors to 
your pages. 

I do not wish to penalize Dr. Smith unduly. 
I have no other fault to find with his truly 
unique stories, I wish I could say the same for 
some of his disciples. 

The crowning travesty, however, which has 
inspired this letter, appears in your December 
issue, and ia entitled "Sky Cops." 

To begin with there is not even one vestige 
of science to redeem this tenth rate tale, unless 
you call ready-made space fliers and the usual 
unexplained rays "science," I do not, anyway. 

I do not care whether Mr. Harl Vincent is 
a successful author or not, I should not think; 
he has built up his reputation by such pot- 
boilers as this. Take for instance the absurdity 
of the Sergeant deliberately releasing the arch- 
bandit from the handcuffs, whilst swearing to 
search the whole solar system for him after- 
wards. Why not have taken bis captive with 
him? This is assuming there was only space 
for two in the machine. Otherwise he could 
have taken the Captain as well. Believing as 
he did that the whole crew of the mother ship 
was in Rolenski's pay, surely the presence of 
two helpless and much wanted men would not 
appreciably increase the odds against him. 

Possibly, however, Mr. Vincent considers 
that in the distant future, wherein his story is 
placed, world atavism is gradually setting in. 
This would appear to be indicated by the low 
standard of education of the major portion of 
his characters, and the officers and their sub- 
ordinates. Mike not only criticizes the orders 
from his Captain, but emphasizes his own views 
by spitting in disgust. Here, therefore, we have 
a possible explanation of the spitting, swearing 
Sergeant's childish mentality. 

I do trust that something will be done to 
check this deluge of crude illiterate phraseology, 
and that all such disgusting matter as spitting, 
etc., will be ruthlessly cut out by the Editorial 
pen in future. 

One last appeal. Surely by all known data 
it is an extraordinary thing to postulate, as in 
'"Sky. Cops" and others of that ilk, that slang 
will remain completely unchanged in the remote 
future. I personally find it impossible to im- 
agine that in thousands of years time, our 
revolting, bat fortunately extremely hypothet- 
ical friend, Sergeant Mike, will be giving utter- 
ance to such well-worn, and rapidly passing 
words as "Attaboy, Yeah, Bum, Lonsey, Okay, 
Big boy, You guys, etc., etc." 

Yours is easily the best magazine of its kind, 
even with all these defects. But how can you 
be surprised at its condemnation as trash by 
those who do not know your publication, and 
casually purchasing a copy, commence reading 
such puerile, valueless rubbish as a story like 
"Sky Cops"? Stop the spitting, etc., complex, 
anyway, if yon will not do anything else, please. 
J. Smith, 
52 Castle Street, 
Liverpool, England. 

(It is fair to say that with the exception of 
this very severe letter, our English correspon- 
dents have treated us very well. We felt that 
"Sky Cops" was an excellent story, it was so 



engineer holding a high position with one of 
the great electrical companies of America. He 
has made a very great success as an author of 
short stories, having published a great many 
during the last few years. Ab regards slang 
and the Sergeant's language, the author had 
to use slang of the present day, for nobody 
knows what slang of the future will be, but 
remember that you must not think that the 
United States is given to slang. It is fair 
to say that in this country you may not hear a 
word of slang for weeks or months in some 
quarters. Poor America has sins enough to 
answer for without this one.— EBitor.) 

A LETTER OP CRITICISM, DIFFERENT 
QUITE FROM OTHERS 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

I have just finished reading the "Discussions" 
of the January issue. Up to the letter by R. E. 
Bowland, Jr., it was dull and uninteresting. 
But there sparks began to fly and most letters 
following kept it up. Rowland, Jr., took a 
grand slam at those asking for reprints, saying 
that magazines which had reprints have weak- 
kneed editors, and also stating that "Amazing" 
is a truly ideal magazine. Why not reprints? 
Of course, Mr. Bowland wouldn't want any 
because be read the magazine since it started, 
almost, A good idea I think would be to have 
a special edition containing reprints, as you 
have suggested. Those who didn't want re- 
prints needn't read it. Better still, print 'em 
in book form, so they can be kept in bookcases. 
As for "Amazing" being "Truly ideal," I'll 
say it isn't. If it was, Paul would be the chief 
artist. Also there would be stories by Fla&g, 
Merritt, Verill, Flint, Taine, Cummings, Tiffcn, 
Rousseau, Douglas, Hall and others. Also there 
would be full page illustrations and not half 
page ones as most of them really arc. A good 
illustration was for the story by Paul H. 
Lovering in the January issue. But alasl there 
are more of these things. F. J. Ackerman de- 
clares that "Amazing" was good until recently. 
He's wrong. It has not been good for over a 
year. Where is Wells, the good old Keller 
stories, the old full page illustrations, the time 
when there were eight or nine stories in each 
issue, when science talks were given over 
WRNY? Gone, gone forever, unless Amazing 
peps up. With all the suggestions from readers 
no cLange nor steps are taken of a new de- 
partment. Just an "We are thinking about it" 
or "We admit it is not a bad plan" yet nothing 
is done. Another magazine has changed back 
to large size, got better paper, took on a large 
statf and used that great artist, Paul, almost 
always and has a form to sign your name and 
send in, a petition for scientific movies. (Sev- 
eral pictures have started because of this 
movement.) 

Mr. Sam Springs, of Glendale, Calif., says 
that he likes stories discussed that are not too 
old, yet goes ahead and tells us what he thinks 
of stories, as far back as October, 1930. 

At least, I agree with you that women in 
stories are necessary if not dealt with too much. 

Mr. Rowderhill, of England, says that a few 
stories apart from science would he welcome. 
Please do not print stories that are not scien- 
tifiction. If he is desirous of other kinds of 
stories, but still "Amazing," he should read 
other magazines. 

Why not more by Kateley. He is good. Let's 
have drawings by Muller. Paul is swell, per- 
fect. Wesso I rate next. Morey is last, al- 
though starting with the December issue bis 
covers have become quite good. The inside 
illustrations of the January issue were among 
the best ever by Morey. The one for "In- 
evitable Conflict" deserved to be a cover. It 
was one of the best I ever saw — (including 
Paul's work, too). If you keep this np "Amaz- 
ing" might return to its old peak. 

Louis Robert Adessa, 
18710 Wyoming Avenue, 
Hollis, New York. 

(It is a long time since we have given any 
of H. G. Wells' stories as we have already 
published the best works by him. Dr. Keller still 
writes for us. We feel that full page illustra- 
tions are objectionable to a certain extent be- 
cause they take up so much room. We are a 
little disinclined to do anything that will crowd 
out the reading matter. That, according to our 
correspondents, is what tbey want most. Wc 
happen to know from good authority that the 
signed petitions for science fiction movies had 
nothing to do with their production. The stories 



April, 1932 



AMAZING STORIES 



9$ 



A LETTER FROM THE CANAL ZONE. 

HOW READERS TAKE SCIENCE IN 

FICTION STORIES. 

Editor, Amazing Stobies: 

Upon receiving a new copy of Amazimg 
Stories I turn to my favorite, the "Discussions" 
column, almost before I have finished the stories. 
I have always found this to be the most inter- 
esting part, perhaps, of the magazine, for in it 
are portrayed the reactions of the readers to the 
various ideas presented by their favorite authors. 

Since I first commenced reading scicnti fiction 
it has been my habit to compare diligently the 
various magazines that use this type of story. For 
a long time A. S. was the only one that followed 
it entirely. Several others occasionally published 
stories of a scientific, or "super- scicnti fie," na- 
ture, but A. S. stood on a pinnacle of its own. 
My preference for it is based on the fact that 
it presents known scientific facts in an easily 
assimilative form, while its stories, written in a 
del i glit fully breezy and adventurous manner, 
contahi plenty of science and are therefore very 
instructive. 

Other 60-called "scientific fiction" magazines 
I have in mind are "Strange Tales." "Wonder 
Stories," and "Weird Tales." I say "so- 
called," for these magazines attempt only to 
have a sketchy scientific background to their 
yarns. Take "Strange Tales," for instance; its 
stories run to stirring action, usually with a 
strong and not always too well done love-theme, 
but with only the most meager amount of science. 
Whenever a story contains more than this mere 
trifle of technical stuff, its readers immediately 
set up a howl, in the department that corre- 
sponds to "Discussions." To my mind that re- 
action smacks of a preference for trashy, light 
reading. 

"Wonder Stories" is a bit better; I consider 
it a cross between A. S. and "Strange Tales." 
Occasionally it shows a few glimmerings of 
sense, particularly when it publishes the stories 
translated from the German secured during the 
last few months. As for "Weird Tales," I 
can only say that I consider its attempts at 
scientifiction a collection of fantastic nonsense, 
although when it sticks to its regular type of 
occult story it is unsurpassed. I prefer A. S. 
because I can not only learn something from its 
pages but because if one were to remove from 
the others the tiny amount of science they con- 
tain they would become merely the mediocre 
"junk" one can see in, fifty other magazines 
on any newsstand. 

I cannot say that I have any favorite on your 
staff of authors. The men who turn out the 
stories for A. S. are so uniformly excellent that 
it is indeed a difficult matter to pick between 
them. While I may not always like the plot of 
a story, or the ideas it presents, I almost never 
find any fault with the literary style, or method 
of presentation. My reading of scientifiction is 
purely critical and observing. 

One more thing, although I fear this must be 
a "brickbat." In the July and August issues 
appeared "The Raid of the Mercury," and "The 
Superman," respectively, by A. H. Johnson. 
These were very fine stories, well written, and 
with good science, but they most evidently had 
their inspiration in "The Iron Heel," by Jack 
London. Plagiarism is a harsh word, but while 
hestitating to use it here I would suggest that 
Mr. Johnson be a bit more careful in the future. 
His use of the "Black Group,*! for instance, 
the "Mymidons," and the "Plutocracy," as well 
as a basis plot of an aristocracy of wealth and 
(ewtire as the future despotic riders of this 
country, check a trifle too closely with the 
"Black Groups," the "Mercenaries," and the 
"Plutocracy" of Jack London's talei 

Richard Rush Murray, 
Detachment 11th Signal Service Co., 

Panama 1 General Depot, 
Corozal, Panama Canal Zone. 

(Our effort, and it is not an easy one, is to 
get a good amount of science into our stories. 
We do find that science impairs the appreci- 
ation by our readers and we can assure you that 
the getting of stories) with a reasonable amount 
of science in their plots has proved a very diffi- 
cult matter and one which assumes more and 
more importance from the editorial standpoint. 
We are very glad to hear you say that you 
have no favorite on our staff of authors, Mr. 
Campbell, for instance, has proved a great 
favorite. We will leave the answer to your 
remarks on Mr. Johnson's stories to the author. 
It would be interesting to see wba,t lie has to 
stay about them, — EmtoB.) 



THE LIGHT RAYS OF THE COSMIC 
UNIVERSE 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

I've been reading Amazing Stories for 
about one year and for the kind of stories they 
are supposed to be they are all O.K. 

Now I would like to know more about bent 
light. Suppose that this world is surrounded 
by suns all on different sides and the rays are 
shooting at us from all different directions. 
The suns are bombarded by each other as well 
as ourselves. Now, how could the light reach 
us traveling at the rate of 186,000 miles a sec- 
ond through all the interference of the other 
light rays; their interference would cut down 
the speed of each sun's rays till the speed 
would amount to nothing by the time they reach 
us, and our earth throws out rays to meet them, 
so how could rays be bent around us or any 
other star? I kuow if you put a stick in flow- 
ing water, the water flows around it because 
the water is all flowing one way, but if you put 
the stick in a tub of water the pressure is from 
all sides and it is not bent. Please answer this 
in your "Discussions" columns, as there are 
quite a few of us interested in the subject. 
T. A. Jones, 
85 Jefferson Street, 
Phillipsburg, N. J. 

(Light rays are not changed in their velocity 
by the interference of other light rays. The 
rays which bombard the earth are trivial as re- 
gards the stars and celestial objects with the 
exception of the sun and the moon. The moon 
gives us a little radiation, but the sun, it is, 
which takes care of our temperature. Its radia- 
tions are not troubled by those of the stars, so 
if you will concentrate your thoughts on the 
fact that the practical state of affairs is that 
the sun takes care of the temperature of the 
earth and that the moon as a reflector throws a 
small proportion of the light of the sun on the 
earth and forget about the millions of stars 
which are so far away that they give us a very 
minute amount of beat and can be really left 
out of practical consideration, you will get a 
pretty good common sense state of affairs. — 



Eon 



t.) 



THE QUESTION OF ARTISTS, CRITI- 
CISM OF "SUBMICROSCOPIC* AND 
"AWLO OF ULM" 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

This is the first letter which I've written to 
your magazine and I hope it will be the only 

To start with the cover, I may say that it 
is rather too garish to appeal to the truly sci- 
entific individual, and although I have no such 
criticism to make, a great many people brand 
the magazine as being pseudo-scientific because 
of the impression derived from the cover. 
Pertinent to the cover question is the old dis- 
pute about the artist, Paul is or was undoubt- 
edly your best illustrator, this can't be denied. 
However, I see that Paul does all the illustrating 
for another magazine in the same field as A. S. 
so maybe you can't get him for your magazine. 
If so, I see the reason for your defending 
Morey and Wesso so valiantly. These may 
sound like rabid criticisms, but I'm not alone 
in these thoughts. 

Criticising the stories is a fruitless expendi- 
ture of time and energy because to people of 
widely different temperament and mentality, 
different stories have their varied interests and 
faults. However, a person who could swallow a 
story such as "Submicroscopic" and its sequel 
"Awlo of TJlm" without a murmur of criticism 
cannot be of very intelligent or penetrating 
mind. The story might appeal to the jaded 
appetite of an over-studious moron, but to one 
who boasts the least scientific knowledge the 
story must be distasteful. You will probably 
say that I took the story too seriously, hut the 
too abundant impossibilities spoil even the few 
original ideas which lend interest to any tale. 

As for the other stories which you print, none 
merit the criticism that Meek's story docs. In 
fact most of them are instructive and all are 
at least of interest to the readers. 

You say that Meek is a scientist himself, yet 
he has published under his name "Submicro- 
scopic" and "Awlo of TJlm," and after these 
two numerous brickbats, I can add, long live 
A. S., and I'm always ivith you. 

E. S. Barghoon, Jr., 
625 Harmon Avenue, 
Oak wood, Dayton, Ohio. 




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AMAZING STORIES 



April, 1932 





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of critical mien. It is perfectly logical to say 
that the attempt to please thousands of readers 
is bound to fail with some few, and the best 
we can hope for is to please the majority and 
that we are sure we do. What we have said 
about Morey and Wesso expressed our thoughts 
and convictions. An artist drawing for Amaz- 
ing Stories, naturally has to appreciate the 
atmosphere. As far as Captain Meek's stories 
are concerned, he has written us about them and 
you will find his letter in the "Discussions"' 
columns of the March issue. — Editor.) 



SOME COMMENTS OF MR. GELULA'S 
AUTOMATON. A CURIOUS PIC- 
TURE OF THE FUTURE. 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

No doubt that daily you receive letters from 
the readers of the Amazing Stories — and after 
reading the magazine for a long, long time, I 
think it might be a good idea to drop you a 

I just finished reading the "Automaton," by 
A. J. Gelula. 

The "Automaton" is similar to "The Iron 
Age" story — but I would say that hoth stories 
were incomplete. The "Iron Age" was good to 
some extent — because it explained at the end 
how machines could get control of the human 
race and could possibly destroy it. 

In "Automaton," Mr. Gelula reached the real 
point — he did hit the right spot— as his idea is 
not a tale — his idea is a real coming invention— 
which is progressing much faster than any in- 
ventions we could think of. 

The "Automaton' 1 is in existence today and 
it is really able to perform everything— it can 
read, write, talk — only it docs not reason, nor 
is it able to think, but this is not very far away. 

Men invented machinery to do almost any- 
thing, read, write, talk, which already works in 
duplicate and when man perfects it, when 
machines will be able to think and reason, it will 
then be the end of the human race, which already 
happened in the past and will happen again. 

The machine will rule the world, will destroy 
the human race and at the end will die out itself 
— -which will be again the new beginning of the 
world of a new race, from a tiny bug up 1o 
another stage where we are today — but this takes 
millions of years — perhaps less or more. 

When Automaton reached the stage as it did 
in Mr. Gelula's story — which it will in time — 
the automaton will refuse to obey the men, it 
will declare a war on the human race — destroy 
it, then it will fall to pieces itself, because hu- 
mans generate one from another starting small 
and growing bigger and getting accustomed to 
climate and mode of living, but here the auto- 
maton will fail — because it stands still and 
change ot climate will destroy it. 

We are well aware that climate shifts and 
in years and years from noiv the North Pole 
will be a tropical country. 

This is my idea of what future has in store 
for us. Also it is my best reason out of how 
it happened in the past which we will call the 
"Lost Civilization." 

John Andrews, 

2239 Adams Place, 

Bronx, New York. 

(You lake the idea of the Automaton or 
robot more seriously than we do and we will 
let your letter speak for itself. — Editor.) 



THROWING AN OBJECT IN A MOVING 

TRAIN— WHAT WILL ITS 

VELOCITY BE? 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

I have read your magazine for some years 
and I find it as good as it could be. One ot 
the features I like best is where you settle 
questions that are asked you from time to time, 
and that is the main purpose of this letter, to 
ask a question. 

If a man in a train throws an object 60 
M.P.H. the same direction as the train which 
is also going 60 M.P.H., what is the velocity c( 
the object thrown ? 

I say 120 M.P.H. and I think I am right, 
but my friend is insistent that I am wrong. 

I hope you can settle this. 
Jesse H. Day, 

431 Garing Street, 
Portland, Oregon. 

(Your statement of the velocity of the object 
thrown in a moving train is perfectly correct. 



April, 1932 



AMAZING STORIES 



9$ 



"THE SKYLARK OF SPACE" WANTED. 

DETECTIVE STORIES NOT 

FAVORITES 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

I first started your magazine when you were 
printing the Jules Verne story, "A Trip to the 
Center of the Earth," and Burroughs' "The 
Land That Time Forgot," but I didn't care so 
much for them. 

However, about a year ago I got an old copy 
containing the second part of the "Skylark o£ 
Space." Boy, what a story! But I could not 
get the other part?; however, I got the sequel 
and all the other issues up-to-date, so no more 
missing instalments. I'm a confirmed — I almost 
.-.iid addict, but I guess "admirer" is a better 
word. Anyway, I'm a steady reader. 

I am like some of your other readers, I don't 
care much for love stories in science fiction, but 
"Spacehounds of IFC" cured me. Can't 
coax Smith to give u 
"Skylark" story. 

That Epilogue seem; 
readers, but it 



warm appreciation as appears in your very kind 
letter. Mr, Coblentz is a well-known author, a 
poet and a critic in one of the Sunday Maga- 
zines that go with the Daily papers. We con- 
sider him a very high grade author. He has 
published a book of poetry and we have had 
the pleasure of using his poetical work in our 
columns. We hope you may yet see some of 
Ray Cumnjings' work. — Editor.) 



icqucl and another 
if your 



mplcst part for 
"Dear Children, 



i the Epilogui . 
happened in the year one, when your 
were young and foolish." Now just write a nice 
little prologue saying — "This, dear children, is 
another story about your illustrious ancestors," 
and everything will be "jake." In other words, 
you write the story and I'll tell you how. 

I don't think much of detective stories in your 
last few issues. I'm not keen on detective 
murders, anyway. I'd rather kill a few Mar- 
tians, and that Chinese doctor is too gruesome 
for words. The "Steam Shovel" was not so bad, 
but the "Ambidexter" sent cold shivers all over 

Is there any chance of getting the August, 
September and October, 1928, issues containing 
the "Skylark of Space," through your office, or 
has it or will it be produced in book form? 
E. M. Knox, 

156J4 West 39th Street, 
Los Angeles, California. 

(If you look through recent issues of the 
magazine, you will find correspondents who have 
back issues of the magazine in their possession 
and we hope that you will he able to get some 
back issues from them. We are unable to sup- 
ply from our files any old issue. We use de- 
tective stories when they involve some good 
science only, and if you will look them over 
you will find that those which we publish arc 
scientific detective stories. — Editor.) 



i 



Editor, Amazing Stories: 

I am safe in saying that I am one of the 
^tdc=t readers of A. S. without having a letter 
printed in your "Discussion" department. I 
have no brickbats to throw, for all your stories 
are above that. 

All my comments are favorable to A. S. 

Names of authors mean nothing to me. I 
rto not judge stories by their originators; I 
read the Stories and judge the authors by their 
work. In the February issue, Carlyle Bessette 
claims in his letter, that he didn't buy the 
Summer Quarterly, because he didn't approve 
of Coblentz stories. Such an idea is the most 
absurd I have ever heard. No offense meant 
to Mr. Bessette. 

In one of your copies (or rather several pub- 
lished some years ago. you ran a serial "The 
Second Deluge." I consider it one of the best 
ever printed by you. Why more like this are 
not printed I cannot say; for they certainly 
would be appreciated. 

I do have a bone to pick with several "Dis- 
cussioners." These readers claim the stories 
printed in the past do not compare with present 
ones. In ray opinion copies years ago compare 
favorably with the present ones. 

The stories of A. S. ' arV~w*U_rnixed. In 

each issue I find stories of no one nature pre- 

' , which, therefore, should appease 

One author I would like to see in your fold 
i- Ra? Cummings; he certainly has that "touch" 
tiiat carries a punch. 

Always a booster, 
John Kings more, 
5936 Colgate Street, 

Philadelphia, Pa. 

(It sometimes seems to us that in the light 
0? some of the criticisms which we receive in 
Si! humility, we should hardly publish such 



"RESULT OP AN IMAGINATION RUN- 
NING WILD." THE HEAVYSIDE 
LAYER. 

Editor, Amazing Stories: 

Be prepared for the worst I You shall now 
feast your eyes upon the result of an imagina- 
tion running wild. Inventors, authors, and 
editors have strong imaginations, so you can't 
very well call me thoroughly insane. Call it 
a very short, short story, without plot or reason 
if you like. There might be some facts in it, 
so here goes. 

The uppermost layer of the Heavyside Layer 
is an area of very minute particles of frozen 
hydrogen. As you probably know, compressed 
hydrogen in a frozen state has all the char- 
acteristics of a metal, having a silvery, lustrous 
appearance. That's where the reflection of 
radio waves comes in. Gravity at the North 
Pole is very strong because of no centrifugal 
force, causing a much thinner layer of pro- 
tecting atmosphere, hence the cold. The par- 
ticles of frozen hydrogen are much more 
crowded there, and the sun's rays striking the 
frozen hydrogen produce an abundance of 
colors. Hence the Aurora Borealis. 

Well, that's that. Regarding the January 
issue of A. S. (this is not more imagination, 
so keep on reading), with only a slight mistake 
here and there, why it was one of the best issues 
I have had the pleasure of reading. In the 
story "Power," Scott Terris quickly pulled out 
of a terrific dive without experiencing temporary 
blindness which would have been the case in 
real life. 

I am all a-flutter waiting to meet "Troyana," 
and I hope she's as good as her predecessor, 
"Drums of Tapajos." Don't disappoint me 
Captain. 

Keep up the fine policy of A. S-, and hang 
on to "Doc" Smith. List me as one of the 
thousands yearning for the return of Seaton 
and Crane. How about the "Skylarks" in 
book form? 

Joseph W. Buck, 

M18 So. 48th Court, 

Cicero, Illinois. 

(Your views about the Heavyside layer are 
original, to say the least. Net gravity at the 
North Pole is only slightly greater than at 
the Equator. Your views about the low tem- 
perature at the North Pole are also quite 
original, and the same can be said about your 
theory of the Aurora Borealis. We are sure 
that you are pleased with "Troyana." We are 
still hoping to see "The Skylark of Space" in 
book form. — Editor.) 



Editor, Amazing Stories: 

I greatly enjoyed your recent story called 
"Spacehounds of IPC," and hope you will give 
us more of the same kind. I like the simple 
straightaway narrative style in which it is 
written. I believe that your readers are more 
interested in interplanetary tales than in any 
other kind. I deplore the stories you sometimes 
publish, which are full of grammatical errors 
and written in an obviously juvenile style- 
apparently by people who have had no training 
in writing. Fortunately, they are few in your 
magazine. Neither do I like stories that reek 
with the most awful human suffering. I greatly 
enjoy the clever pictures you run, and wish 
there were more of then:. 

Bertha Gordon. 

4325 Champlairi Ave., 
Chicago, III. 

("The Spacehounds" was certainly an ex- 
cellent story and it proved to be quite a favorite. 
Our pages are edited and proofread carefully, 
but wo suppose we are not infallible. Just the 
same, we'll try to do better, if we've let a lot 
slip by. If we put in more pictures there would 
be less text and that is certainly one of the 
reasons that induces your criticism. — Editor.) 



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Address Age 

(Must be 18 or over) 



They gave me the ha-ha" 
when I offered to play 

. . . but I was the life of the party after that 



X HE first day of Dorothy's house 
party at her cottage on the shore had 
been a huge success. With an after- 
noon of swimming, boating and golf- 
ing we were all set for the wonderful 
dinner that followed. 

"Well, folks," said Bill enthusi- 
astically, as we were leaving the 
table, "I don't know how you feel, 
but I'm all pepped up for a good 
dance." 

"Fine I" cried Dorothy. "Dick 
Roberts has his banjo and can sure 
make it hum. Now who can play the 
piano?" 

Instantly the laughter and merri- 
ment ceased. All looked at one an- 
other foolishly. But no one said a word. 

"How about you, Jim, you play, don't 
you?" asked Dot. 

"Yes, I'll play 'Far, Far Away'," 
laughed Jim. 

"Well, then, Mabel, will you help us 
out?" 

"Honestly, Dot, I hate to admit it, but 
I can't play a note," she answered. 

It certainly looked as if the party were 
going flat. Plenty of dancers but no one 
to play. 

Then I Offered to Play 

"If you folks can stand it," I offered 
shyly, "I'll play for you." 

The crowd, silent until now, instantly 
burst out in laughter. 

"You may be able to play football, Jack, 
but you can't tackle a piano." 

"Quit your kidding," cut in another. 
"I've never heard you play a note and 
I've known you all your life." 

"There isn't a bar of music in your 
whole makeup," laughed Mabel. 

A feeling of embarrassment mingled 
with resentment came over me. But as I 
strode to the piano I couldn't help chuck- 
ling to myself when I thought of the 
surprise I had in store for them. 

No one knew what to expect. They 
thought I was about to make a fool of 
myself. Some laughed. Others watched 
me wide-eyed. 

Then — I struck the first snappy chords 
nf that foot-loosing fox-trot, "St. Louis 
Blues." Dick was so dumb- 
founded he almost dropped 
his banjo. But in a flash he 
had picked up the rhythm 
and was strumming away 
like mad. 

Although they could 
hardly believe their ears, 
the crowd were all on their 
feet in a jiffy. And how 
they danced ! Fox-trots, 
waltzes — with rests few 
and far between. 

After a good round of 




PickYc 


ui Instrument 
















































Sight S 






































Banjo (PI 


l.„. 
Pla 


'■Mring or 


l-.l.r, 


o Courts 



dancing I decided : 
give them some real 
sic and began a beautiful In- 
dian love lyric. 

The couples, who but a mome 
before had been dancing 
were now seated quietly about the 
room, entranced by that plainliv 
melody. 

No sooner had the last soft notes died 
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me from all sides. 

"How wonderful. Jack! Why haven't 
you played for us before?" 

"How long have you been studying?" 

"Why have you kept it a secret all 
these years when you might have been 
playing for us?" 

"Who gave you lessons? He must be 
wonderful !" 

I Reveal My Secret 

Then I explained how some time before 
I made up my mind to go in for something 
besides sports. I wanted to be able to 
play — to entertain others — to be popular. 
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Then one day I ran across an announce- 
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Thirty-Fourth Year (Established 1898) 



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Frank Cran 





)U ahoF 


e in.strum 












( Please 


iriu plainly) 





The 
97-Pound 
Weakling... 

who became^TheWorlds 
Most Perfectly 
Developed 




Mi 



an 



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(Please print or write plainly)